


Practically Strangers

by fill_empty_space_here



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Jack just doesnt want to be hurt anymore, Multi, Original Character(s), Popular Mark, Punk Jack, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Stereotypes, Teen Angst, Tuesday is fun for me, Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2018-11-23 04:26:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11395311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fill_empty_space_here/pseuds/fill_empty_space_here
Summary: Sean gradually learned from the past. He learned not to let people control his emotions. He learned to destroy any ties with people who could hurt him. He learned to not say too much and to not let anyone waver his focus, which was to end high school as fast as possible. Sean had learned from the past, and he was a different person now. Sean was now Jack, and hell as if he was going to let high school break him down. Not when he was so close.Or so he thought until he entered his senior year.





	1. Different

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings:  
> 1) I have unexpected hiatuses, but just know I will ALWAYS update on _A_ Tuesday.... Just not EVERY Tuesday.  
>  2) Character motivation is a little shaky, but I think you guys get it.  
> 3) "Septiplier. A captain always goes down with his ship, amirite?" Haha no. I'm a shipper. Not a realist. Either ship up or ship out.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dif·fer·ent  
> /ˈdif(ə)rənt/  
>  _adjective_  
>  1\. not the same as another or each other; unlike in nature, form, or quality.  
> • _informal_  
>  novel and unusual.
> 
> 2\. distinct; separate.

Sean’s first year of high school was, in lack of a better word, surprising.

All of Sean’s older siblings had told him as he ended middle school, “Keep your head low and your trust lower—you never know who might have changed and who wants to change _you_.” Their words had shattered Sean’s image of a happy, perfect life with his middle school friends and easy semesters into pieces. Although it had stumbled his hopes, he still held them high. Sean believed he could make it through those four years with his friends and good grades. Sean believed life was going to be okay. High school couldn't be that hard, right?

On his first year, life completely laughed in his face.

He realized that he was in it all alone, and that whatever challenges he would face wouldn't pity him—not in the fucking least.

Sean’s list of problems began with his grades. Sean had okay grades, mostly low B's and high C’s, and once in a while, he would get a few A’s. The problem, you might ask? The grades weren't good enough.

To some, those grades might be more than enough, but to Sean, they signified a loss in his focus on school, and with a decline in his grades went his care. He suddenly cared less if his grades were good or bad, or if his teachers suddenly worried for his health.

Consequently, they constantly asked him, “Are you okay?” or “Is everything alright? You've been acting strange.” It annoyed the crap out of him, and after not caring, he simply told them to shut up. He began getting in trouble a lot more often.

With that, grew Sean’s annoyance of anyone and _everyone_. Anyone who so much as _looked_ at him would receive nothing but a cold glare and a fierce scowl that could make anyone’s blood run cold.

At the moment, you might be wondering, what happened to his friends if he was being such a dick?

The answer was simple enough. Sean’s friends cared less about him than he cared for them.

First left Bob and Wade, which was obvious enough. They were swept head over heels for their girlfriends, and suddenly, they had formed their own little group Sean hadn't cared enough to name. He always saw them together, goofing off and being complete _geeks_. With them left his not-so-close friends—who he never really visited or joked around with as much as everyone else. He didn't really miss them, but he did know that some of them followed Bob and Wade, and some joined other groups.

But to Sean’s surprise, behind trailed two of his closest friends, Felix and Mark.

Felix had been his first friend since he had moved to America in sixth grade, and he had grown extremely close to him. He had learned Felix was Swedish, and his parents were divorced. Despite the tween’s troubles at home, he was hilarious and never broke a smile. But Felix had changed over summer break, it had seemed, so when freshman year started, the Swede was a stereotypical stoner. He had formed his own group of teens who smoked out back and, as fun as it seemed for Sean to join them, he would have never fit in. Felix never looked back to him.

But Mark was a different story.

He had met the man in sixth grade through Felix, back when they were young and Sean could barely speak English. Mark was friendly from day one, he had always been sort of a hero to Sean ever since he had seen him shove a bully away from a panicking kid. From then on until freshman year, Mark was Sean’s hero and best friend, and the Irish(kid?) had never been happier.

Sadly, Mark had met a girl named Amy that took up most of his time outside of school, so they gradually grew further apart. He lost interest in Sean, and it slowly broke Sean into nothing. It pained to see his best friend grow closer with other people, and having _better_ friends than Sean could ever be. Until eventually, Mark went from their long talks on the phone, to sporadic texts, to friendly hellos, and suddenly, Mark didn't even bat an eyelash towards Sean’s way.

Sean could remember the worst day of his life being when he was asked, “Didn’t he used to be your friend?”

That was the first time Sean had cried in high school. It was the first time he had cried in over 5 years, and it was the first time he let himself cry for someone, let alone Mark–motherfucking–Fischbach. Sean was surprised that it wasn't the last.

Mark had grown to be one of the most popular kids at school, leaving Sean alone with no friends, no happiness, and no trust. His old friend never much as looked his way during the day, let alone strike up a conversation. The only interaction Sean ever had with Mark was his junior year, when Sean sat at the principal’s office for talking back to the teacher and Mark walked into the counselor’s, glancing at Sean with teary eyes. Sean saw the look on the guy’s face. He knew the pain behind the mask, and Sean easily detected the dreaded emotion. Grief. He had seen that emotion with himself and his family when his grandma had died. He hated losing someone you love. And he imagined the feeling of having someone close to him vanish before his eyes.

Turns out Mark’s dad had died only a week ago.

Sean had never felt so bad for someone who otherwise didn't give a shit about him. He had hated the fact that Mark controlled his emotions like a puppeteer.

But Sean gradually learned from the past. He learned not to let people control his emotions. He learned to destroy any ties with people who could hurt him. He learned to not say too much and to not let anyone waver his focus, which was to end high school as fast as possible. Sean had learned from the past, and he was a different person now. Sean was now Jack, and hell as if he was going to let high school break him down. Not when he was so close.

Or so he thought until he entered his senior year.

**{...}**

Jack pulled the covers up to his chin in a blissful haze. The covers were extremely warm over him, and he wondered if it was possible to get a job sleeping for the rest of his life. If that was a real job, then fuck school, he was applying right away.

_Oh, fuck, I forgot about school._

As if on cue, his alarm blared beside him, the stupid ringing managing to ruin his good mood before school had. Jack groaned, reaching blindly beside his bed for the noisemaker, and hummed in satisfaction as he gripped at the cold phone that screamed for him to wake up.

Then, he threw it across the room.

 _There we go_ , he said as a loud thud was made from his actions. He smirked lazily and turned towards the wall near his bed and snuggled closer into his pillow.

Just as his breathing began to run slower, the goddamn ringtone started again.

Jack groaned and shot up, glaring at the illuminated screen that he regretted ever buying. He swung his legs off his bed and ran a hand through his green hair. _I guess I’ll get this bullshit over with._

The teenager stood up, dropping his covers to the floor and switching on the light. He glanced out the window of his bedroom—dark. Great that he's not late.

He quickly went to the restroom and showered, used the restroom, brushed his teeth and went back to his room. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and changed into fresher clothes, which were a black shirt and skinny jeans. Just how he liked them. He tied up his shoes, hoping he hadn't woken his parents by throwing his phone. Jack always did things without thinking about them. He smirked to the sight of the still-dark sky, picked up his phone and backpack, and went downstairs.

Jack decided to be a bit sympathetic to his parents and made pancakes, bacon, and eggs for them, laid them out on two plates and began walking out the door once he heard them moving around upstairs. He glanced to his watch and grinned.

_6:26 AM_

Jack walked to school with a confident smile and an unawareness of what’s to come.

**{...}**

Here’s a glimpse of Jack’s schedule. His first block was homeroom, and his first class was AP literature. AP Statistics, then Photography—which included one of his favorite teachers in the entire world—after that, it’s AP World Geography and Economy then AP Chemistry. His favorite class was lunch—as overused as that joke was, Jack always skipped it and hung outside of the school. After lunch, he had another art elective, drawing as his wonderfully easy class, and the last “class" he had was spent walking around until his free period was over.

As complex as his grades were, all the AP classes he had chosen this year were courtesy of his parents' encouragement, but it didn't stop him from wanting to try as hard as he could. Even if he thought he couldn't do it. Jack thought that if he didn't like it, he would simply drop the classes.

That's what was on Jack’s mind as he headed towards his homeroom. He was not paying attention in the _least_ bit, so when he bumped into someone else, he backed up and walked away without a word. He did stop, however, when he heard someone shouting for him to turn around and apologize.

The boy he had bumped into wore shorts and a tank, his skin was tan and the glare he gave was nothing but stone. He was obviously a junior, and one he recognized but couldn't place a name on… _Oh wait, was he talking to me? Oh hell no, this bitch did not just threaten to punch me if I didn't apologize._

“—you don't just walk into someone and not apologize, you fucking bitch!” the junior closed his fists tightly and sneered. “Did your mom hate you so much that she dropped you off at the nearest freak show without teaching you any manners?”

Jack felt irritation boiling in his stomach, and it took all of his will power not to shove this shithead into the nearest trash can. Instead, he frowned and glared. _If this little shit wants to start an argument, then so be it._

“First of all, shut the fuck up. You do _not_ want to cause a fuckin’ scene just ‘cause I _bumped into_ you. Do you know how much of an idiot you sound like right now? Like, fuckin’ hell, dude! Chill out! Second, you never bring up my mom and how she raised me, because I don't think you're one to talk about manners, cunt. Now how about you let me continue walking, and you go on into the restroom and cry your ass off about nothin’, ‘cause I'm not gonna apologize for hurtin’ your _precious_ feelings.”

The junior frowned and muttered, “Fucking bitch…”

Jack glared at him, “Annoying prick. I can do the names too, you know. You're nothin’ I haven't dealt with before. So how about you fuck off and learn to keep your mouth shut when something doesn't go right, eh? Now go, run before you embarrass yourself even more.”

The junior stepped forward and said angrily, “Shut the fuck up, you little——"

“Oh, come on,” he smirked. “You don't want to start a fight on the first day of school, do ya, kid?”

The younger boy shook in rage, but Jack didn't even flinch. Instead he opened his arms and loosened his shoulders, completely letting his guard down. “Come on. Hit me. Hit me for all the things I said that were correct and for all the respect you're losing for yourself. You've had a bad day, huh? Get rid of all the injustice through me. Come on, _bitch_. Hit me,” he grinned. “You know you want to.”

The junior tensed and looked around to the hallway that seemed to be even more crowded as people had stopped to look, yet backed away slightly, his confidence suddenly melting into a puddle of nervousness.

And Jack knew every last look. He knew he won.

“See?” he straightened his back, and turned away with a smirk. “Don't start battles you can't win. I was right. Now scram,” he said, to the group they had formed. But they hadn't left, and soon he realized why.

The junior charged up to him and swung at his face, hitting him square on his cheekbone and Jack grew angry. He shoved the kid away and grabbed the hand that hit him. Quickly, he twisted it and pulled it behind his back, then pushed the kid into lockers as the junior writhed in pain.

A teacher quickly came up to them and pried Jack away from his attacker, and told the students to head to their classes right away. He grabbed the junior and started walking him and told Jack to head to class as he would be pulled away from it later.

Jack hated juniors.

**{...}**

Homeroom was halfway done by the time he entered. Jack was placed near an empty seat in the back that still had someone’s bag at it. Jack ignored it. He placed his head on the desk and tried not to punch his new teacher. The door opened a few minutes after. Jack looked up to see if it was the teacher that had promised to pick him up for a _pleasant_ trip to the principal.

He regretted the action immediately.

Standing at the door was Mark Fischbach, wearing pants and a T-Shirt, and smiled at the teacher and made his way to his seat, which Jack belatedly realized was beside _him_.

“Fuck me in the asshole,” he cursed harshly as he placed his head back down, not even wanting to see the disgust he knew would be displayed on Mark’s face.

“Sean?” he heard his teacher’s voice say. She asked again, “Sean McLoughlin?”

“Don’t call me that,” he said flatly as he raised his head. Jack ignored the feeling of everyone's stares, and the sound of people snickering. He stood up and walked towards the front with his bag in hand.

“You’re being called to the princi——"

“Save your breath, I know where I'm goin’,” he said, walking to the door.

“Well, I wouldn't want you getting lost, huh, _Sean_?” she smiled and announced, “Uh,” the teacher, Ms. Thomas, paused and looked around the classroom. “Mark? Could you please drop him off?”

Jack froze. He turned around and caught the same surprise in Mark’s face, but the teacher had the biggest shit-eating grin. Jack _really_ wanted to punch someone now.

Despite his urges, he walked out the door without waiting for Mark.

“H-hey! Wait… Wait up!” a baritone voice called from behind him.

Jack clenched his fists. _Why couldn't he just accept my offer to ditch me?_ He stopped and spun on his heels to find Mark running towards him. Once Mark was two feet away, Jack began walking again, fixing his gaze to his shoes.

“Oh, um… Hi,” Mark attempted to walk beside him, but seemingly moved a few feet away to avoid direct contact. The popular boy coughed, still walking an arm’s length from beside the younger. “Uh, what happened? To your… Your face?”

Jack didn't answer him. As much as he wanted to snap in his face, he kept his glare trained on his shoes and his mouth shut. He walked a bit faster.

Mark cleared his throat. “I guess you don't want to answer…" He paused, then began again, “How about your hair? When did you dye that?”

Silence. Jack’s annoyance of his old friend grew. _When would this walk end?_

“No? Not even that?” Mark paused long enough for Jack to believe he finally gave up. The tan boy spoke, “Um… You still live in the same place?”

Jack frowned. He was surprised Mark even remembered hanging out with him. The thought disturbed him. How could Mark leave him after all the fun they had before?

That thought only made his annoyance worsen, and he tensed.

“I——"

“Look, Mark, you don't have to make any fucking conversation with me, and you don't have to walk me here, okay? You can leave right-fucking-now if you wanted to. What are you waiting for? Hm? Just go hang out with your friends and leave me. I don't even see why you make an effort with me _now_ out of all times,” Jack had stopped to look at Mark in the eyes, which were wide with shock of his outburst.

Mark furrowed his brows, defending himself. But before Jack could let him, he narrowed his eyes. _What could he do to defend himself anyways? He left_ me _and all of a sudden he's making an effort to talk to me? Doesn't he have better people to be with?_

Mark sighed, looking away, a hurt expression washing over him. That surprised Jack more than his efforts for awkward conversation. Suddenly, guilt grew at the pit of his stomach, but Jack tried hard not to let it show. He decided he read the look incorrectly, and rolled his eyes, turning down the hall.

Instead of walking though, Jack glared over his shoulder and scoffed. “Just leave me alone like you always have.” He ran towards the principal’s office without looking back.

**{...}**

Jack ended up going scot-free after the fight, since the principal said he hadn't _actually_ fought. He managed to make it back for the start of his second period, and blew through his class with ease. The first day of school was always easy.

Jack was excited though. He walked towards his photography class with a bounce in his step, appreciating that his art teacher had been his teacher for so long. Ever since he began art sophomore year, Mrs. Garza had been his favorite teacher ever. He learned so much from her, and he was glad photography was something she taught now.

“Good morning, Jack,” Mrs. Garza chirped happily as he entered the small room.

He smiled and looked at the empty classroom. Jack blinked in confusion; he was never early. “Hey, uh. Where is everyone, miss?”

“You’re _early_ , Jack. Any idea what that is?” she jokes, sitting on her desk casually. Mrs. Garza was a kind woman, only in her mid-30s and had two children that she often took pictures of. She always took beautiful photos, so it was no wonder that she was chosen to teach photography class. And while Jack wasn't the greatest at handling a camera, he had some experience and she was a great teacher. Jack was confident this class would be easy.

“For real? I've never been here before everyone. It feels… Weird,” he said honestly.

“Well, I'm glad you missed me! Usually students hate art classes, but you're the first of my students to love it.”

Jack chuckled. “It’s creative! It's not my fault I get _too_ into it. Why would anyone think this class is something worth ditching?” he queried without expecting answer. He asked politely, “Anyways, how was your summer, miss?”

His teacher grinned brightly, “It was uneventful. Usually just planning projects for you students, but I got sleep. How does it feel being a senior?”

Jack shrugged, his smile wavering without remorse, “Nothing’s changed.”

It was true. Other than Mark actually talking to him, his first day was the same as his entire junior and sophomore year. So far, his first day as a senior sucked ass.

Ms. Garza’s smile turned into a pout and a sympathetic gaze. She opened her arms as an invitation to an embrace, and he hugged her tight. Quietly, she muttered, “I’m sorry.”

He nodded, frowning into her hug and shut his eyes. Jack ignored the sound of the door opening and the murmur of students who chatted too long in favor for smiling and pulled away. “It’s okay, miss. Thank you.”

He didn't look to whoever walked in as he took his seat in the back, staring at the wood of his table. _Great, we have to sit among other people. I hope it's no one I hate._

A handful of juniors walked in, then a swarm of seniors that looked about as annoying as annoying could get. _Speaking of annoying…_

The junior from earlier had walked in with an irritated expression, and the expression turned into anger as he locked eyes with Jack’s glare. _The little shit must have gotten away because it’s his first fight._ Jack let out a long sigh as he also realized the only seats open were at his table.

And suddenly he hated photography class.

"Okay, guys, take your seats,” Ms. Garza said to everyone, “and be wise. These seats will seat the partners you’ll be having for the rest of the year.”

_And it got worse._

Jack watched the junior sit diagonally from him at their table, and a girl sit beside him. She was pretty, but wore bright-colored clothes and _way_ too much makeup. She instantly began texting under the table, and Jack tried not to notice the glare he was receiving from the junior.

_Thud!_

The door swung open to show a panting Mark Fischbach, his hair messy and——

_Spare the details for later because right now, the guy is going to be sitting next to you._

Jack groaned and tapped his foot in irritation, staring at the floor.

Ms. Garza and Mark went into a _long_ conversation that Jack absolutely hated. He tapped his nails on the table, but after receiving _multiple_ glares from people, he opted to cup his cheek in his hand as he held himself up. Senior year was sucking _so_ much right now.

The seat beside him scraped against the tiles, and he tried _really_ hard not to acknowledge it.

Ms. Garza clapped her hands loudly from up front, bringing everyone’s attention. Jack stared at her as she grinned.

“Okay, guys, welcome to Photography class! I know most of you guys probably think this class will be easy, but it’s probably gonna cost you a bit. I wanna go over a few ‘supplies’ you guys might have to provide yourself with. I'm gonna ask now. Raise your hand if you have your own camera.” Everyone raised their hands except for Jack. Jack smirked when people looked his way. Ms. Garza already knew he had a camera—although it wasn't the _greatest_ , he still had one that he loved using. And it _wasn't_ his phone’s.

“Okay, let me make this _clear_ ,” his teacher laughed quietly. “Raise your hand if you have a camera that is not your phone’s or a Polaroid.”

Half of the hands went down. Jack shook his head.

She continued, “That isn't of reusable film…"

Three hands went down. Six people still had their hands up.

“Or point and shoot cameras…”

Someone bothered to ask, “What’s a point and shoot camera?”

Ms. Garza sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It’s the cheapest kind, Brittany.”

“The small ones?” someone else asked.

“Yes, Stan.”

Six turned to one and with that, Jack raised his hand. He glanced beside him at the other hand, raising an eyebrow as Mark raised his proudly.

Ms. Garza grinned to the boys in the back. “Glad some people are interested in this class.”

Jack glanced beside him, hoping the American wouldn't notice him. Sadly, Mark was looking back, a grin on his face. Jack ignored it in favor of the table, and he brought his hand down in embarrassment.

“Anyways,” she snapped him out of his haze. “I’m going to let you guys use your phones but absolutely _no_ instant or compact cameras. Those usually give limited features and terrible control over exposure. Whatever. I'm being nice. Anyways, most of this week will not be anything but getting to know each other! Yay!”

Jack groaned.

“Geez, I guess you guys hate socializing. Either way, by the end of today, I want you guys to have learned everyone’s names. I know this is typical for first days, but at least everyone at your table? We’ll go in alphabetical order, alright? When you hear your name, I want you to say your full name and tell us a bit about yourself.”

Jack stopped listening by the second person.

He was having an intense staring contest with his nails when he heard the girl in front of him stand. She cleared her throat and frowned. “My name is Olivia Mary Celine. I love drawing and sketching.” She sat back down.

Jack sighed loudly as the list continued, and everyone at his table shot him a quick glance and—in the junior diagonal from him’s case—glare.

The chair beside him scraped by, and Jack furrowed his brows at the infuriating sound. Mark smiled to the class, looking at everyone but Jack. “My name is Mark Edward Fischbach. I… I guess I like football and video games.”

At the word video games, Jack perked up, then tried playing it off as a twitch when people noticed. He remembered when Mark, Felix, Bob, and Wade used to play video games through the night. He sighed again, but this time of nostalgia, with _everyone_ glaring this time.

The day never seemed to end until he finally heard his name. At first, he actually hadn't, but Mark nudged him to stand up and he looked to the floor. “My name is Jack. No, my name isn't Sean, and you'll only call me Jack, okay?” he glared at the classroom, knowing he's coming off as a huge retard. _Either that or a jackass._ “One thing about me is that my hair’s green. Obviously. Just wanted to remind those of you who are too preoccupied to notice.” He glanced to Olivia. “That means _get off_ your phone, bro.”

Olivia jumped up a bit and Jack sat down as the room suddenly filled with laughter. She fixed him a glare and he was surprised how fast he made his teammates hate him.

“What the fuck?!” she harshly whispered as the next person stood up. “You don't do that!”

Jack simply shrugged. “You know what? You can make it even. Next time you catch me texting _my_ best friends, you can call me out in front of the whole school. Oh wait!” he muttered loudly. “I won't be doing that!”

“Surprised to hear you even have friends,” Olivia grumbled.

Jack rolled his eyes, “Exactly.”

“How would you if you're always such a fucking dick?” the junior beside Olivia said.

Jack opened his mouth to retort, but was surprised to hear another voice cut in.

“ _I’m_ his friend.”

Jack furrowed his brows together and turned to Mark, who was looking at Olivia and the unnamed junior.

“And who the fuck are you?” Olivia said with disdain.

“I’m Mark. Weren't you listening?——oh, that's right, you weren't.”

Olivia fumed at that, but Ms. Garza called from up front, “Hey! Quiet down back there!”

With that, everyone shut up, only offering Jack glares and scowls.

The last one to stand up was the junior Jack had grown to despise. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked to the door, muttering, “My names is Gabriel Young. One thing about me is,” he glared at Jack, “that I hate the color green now.”

“Good luck walking by grass, jerk,” Jack muttered lowly and Mark chuckled. He was surprised he had even heard.

Jack didn't look up until class was over.

**{...}**

Jack had managed to avoid Mark out the door. Jack had never begged the skies for anything except to never have Mark in the same class again. Turns out, begging works. In Jack’s next classes, he didn't have anyone he used to know. The biggest problem in Jack’s way was lunch, and that could be avoided by hanging out outside.

The Irishman was still puzzled about why Mark was talking to him all of a sudden. Maybe it was because he finally got a chance to. Maybe it was because he finally _saw_ Jack. Or maybe it was because life finally managed to throw them both into awkward situations that neither could get out of.

Whatever it was, Jack didn't want to deal with it. He had worked so hard to get where he was, and in no way was he going to let his feelings get hurt.

Jack walked into the cafeteria. He looked around to the crowded room, with all of his grade split up into the strangest cliques ever.

Bob and Wade, along with their girlfriends and idiotic friends, made up the table in left corner. Felix and his friends, which Jack had never met nor talked to, were at the other corner of the cafeteria.

Scattered between both groups were the nerds, the geeks, the goths, the student council, the heavy metal fans (which Jack would join if it were for the fact that they _definitely_ didn't like him), the dramatic bitches, the “losers"—Jack mostly called them that because he always saw them get bullied—the fangirls, the single girls, the single _guys_ (neither had any interest in each other for some reason), the religious people, the teacher’s pets, the emos, the gamers (which somehow didn't fall into the geek category), the bros (they were literally the urban dictionary’s definition of “dudes"), the perverts, the group that resembled a fucking gang, the sporty kids, and, at the very center, the popular kids.

The popular kids based some of the stupidest jocks and richest cheerleaders. Although, not _all_ of them were terrible, and he knew, but he knew better to try to get in between what system the school had made.

Instead, Jack squared his shoulders and turned back out the door.

It was much quieter outside, barely any people excluding students who skipped class. The school was _huge_ , and now, he stood at the front of the cafeteria doors. The Irishman made his way around the side of the school, where he leaned on to the hard wall without a care. The side of the school wasn't spacious. There was only a small space between the wall and the fence that surrounded the school, and no one went there. He sighed to break the silence the environment had created, his head raised painfully to look above.

Jack’s mood matched the sky, which was grey and cold despite the autumn, and never had he related so much to nature.

He sighed in the quiet of the outdoors, and realized _just_ how cold it was when a puff of frozen air left his mouth. Jack grinned. When he was younger, he would pretend he was smoking, pressing two fingers to his lips then taking it away and blowing out the steam.

Supposedly, he didn't have to pretend anymore. He could do whatever he likes without anyone having to tell him anything. Jack took that advice to heart. He fumbled with his backpack strap before pulling it off his shoulder. Jack’s cold hands opened the zipper and pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

To other people, smoking might have been disgusting, but to Jack, it was a stress reliever. Maybe other people relied on it too much, but he had control. Usually, he _rarely_ smoked. Actually, Jack barely remembered when he last took a smoke, and the first time he tried it, he actually hated the feeling of nicotine. But that was before. This was now. Today, he just wanted to let the feeling of nicotine run through and overtake him. No matter what happens.

Jack pulled a lighter from his pocket and lit the cigarette that now hung from his mouth. The flame burnt at the tobacco, and he inhaled a large amount of the smoke into his lungs. Jack did the same thing he did when he was younger. He pulled the cigarette away and blew the smoke out from his mouth.

Jack thought he heard footsteps, but they weren't very quick. He suspected it was some sophomore skipping class, and not a teacher coming to investigate.

Jack was only half-right.

Along the corner of the building now stood a jock. A specific jock that Jack had avoided all day. _What is with this guy? What the fuck is he doing following me around for?_

“Hey,” Mark smiled awkwardly as he walked closer.

Jack tried not to scream at the man to leave. “What are _you_ doing here?” Jack looked away, smoking a bit more.

“I… I saw you walk out the door and followed you,” Mark paused, standing beside Jack and facing him. “I came to apologize.”

“Apologize for _what_?” Jack snapped, irritated that the nicotine wasn't doing _anything_ to stop this man from controlling his emotions.

“For, um, the hallway, and the art thing,” Mark said sheepishly. He did that thing that he does when he's nervous and started rubbing the back of his neck as he looked to the cigarette Jack was holding.

“Apology accepted,” Jack said, but didn't mean it. He took another drag from the cigarette. Mark’s eyes followed. “Now fuckin’ leave me alone,” he said with smoke acting like the venom dripping from his words.

“Wait, can I have one?”

Jack raised an eyebrow. He never took him as someone who smoked. “You smoke?” he voiced his curiosity.

“I c——yeah, I do,” Mark looked to the wall that held Jack up.

Jack found himself saying without thinking, “Why?”

Mark shifted nervously as Jack continued staring, opening his mouth without any words coming out. Eventually, he managed, “It gives me something to do.” Mark looked back into Jack’s blue eyes. “Why do you smoke?”

Jack suddenly figured out what was happening, and he tensed. He broke their mutual gaze and shoved the cigarette pack the man’s way. “Take how many you'd like. Here.” He handed him his lighter and waited for the man to leave.

Instead, Mark stepped closer and leaned against the wall, inches away from Jack. He grabbed a single cigarette and held it still with his lips. Then, the man lit the cigarette as he shut his eyes as if taking a smoke rid him of all the cares in the world. In some way it did, Jack thought.

Jack watched the man keep his eyes shut, the silence consuming him acting as a reminder of how strained their relationship was. Mark released smoke, his lips moving slower than they should have been. It was such a peaceful image, and Jack couldn't seem to look away. Because, before him, stood a stranger. A stranger he simply chose to have a smoke with. A stranger from distant memories, just a figure of what he used to be. “It really helps,” was what the other man said. Jack barely realized his own cigarette had dropped to the floor. He stepped on it as he looked back at Mark.

“What does?” Jack asked, looking away and hoping he wasn't breaking any of his rules.

“The quiet. The smoke. The fact that you don't have to do _anything_ for at least a few seconds. No rules…” he looked to Jack and stared into the deep brown eyes that captivated his focus. “No worries.”

Jack bit his lip, looking to the smoke rising to the air as the cigarette still wasn't correctly put out. He resisted the urge to crush it.

_The quiet… Too quiet… I should answer._

“Too much of something could be bad for you. Like smoking,” Jack explained. “If you can't stop, no matter how hard you need to, it's an addiction, and if you depend too much on one single thing for happiness,” Jack tensed again. He scowled towards his shoes. “You’re in too deep.”

_You're in too deep. You're not supposed to talk to him. Leave. Before he makes himself welcome._

Jack pushed off the wall, sighing. He didn't let his blue eyes meet the brown ones he knew were staring at him. “Bye, Mark.”

He left without looking at the jock, and cursed the world for trying to make him do something he didn't want to. Which, sadly, was befriend Mark.


	2. Vulnerability

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vul·ner·a·bil·i·ty  
> /ˌvʌlnərəˈbɪləti/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. the quality or state of being exposed to the possibility of being attacked or harmed, either physically or emotionally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: It is technically still Tuesday in some places. SO YAY!  
> The backstories, character development, time (wide gap by the way) & place, and character interaction were all altered to make Jack's intentions and worries as clear as they could be. Anyways, thank you guys for your support, it means a lot :)  
> P.S. HAPPY SIXTEEN MILLION SUBSCRIBER COUNT TO JACKSEPTICEYE *throws confetti*

The next few weeks were fairly easy after Jack realized what was happening. His classes were going by smoothly, and homeroom never seemed to trouble Jack as badly as he anticipated.

The strange thing though, was that every time Mark had a chance, he would try to talk to him. In homeroom, he would say a “hello" and a “how was your day" that Jack always responded with a glare. His teacher was weirder than he had expected. She was always sending him to do errands for her, and if not him, it would be Mark. But she always had some weird smile when she did it. Jack began to suspect Ms. Thomas knew how Jack hated Mark and tried keeping them apart. He was curious as to how she found out.

Photography class was slightly the same, and they often were taught how to work a camera and the rules to take good pictures. More often than not, Ms. Garza tried to make the class do activities with their tablemates, which his table really sucked at. Mark always ended up doing the work by himself, since Olivia didn't care and Jack didn't want to, and Gabriel didn't want to work with anyone.

Jack had asked—no, practically _begged_ —to change tables, but Ms. Garza always smiled and shook her head, explaining how it was good for him to “make some friends.” So far they hadn't started any projects, but Jack was anxious to finally start working instead of sitting around and doing nothing.

The biggest problem was at lunch. Every time Jack chose to smoke out back, Mark seemed to be there. Of course, Jack always left early when Mark chose to come up to him, and although he felt guilty, he just really didn't want a repeat of freshman year.

Jack always stayed silent. It was hard. Usually he learned to talk as much as he wants to drive people away, but he knew what Mark wanted, which was a conversation. Consequently, Mark always talked. Whether he was describing the area around them and what he liked or talking about his day, he didn't stop babbling on. It annoyed the fuck out of Jack, but as long as he didn't lead him on, Mark would eventually get the idea. Eventually.

So far that hasn't worked so well.

And it did not work when he broke down.

**{...}**

Jack saying he was sick was a lie. Even though his entire body ached, his stomach was tied into tight knots, he was nauseous, his voice was broken to _hell_ , the most vicious cough he’d ever had was ruining his life, and he tried not to sneeze about every twenty seconds, Jack wasn't _sick_. Well, maybe. But just a little.

He knew he was sick, but he wouldn't let himself stay at home and make his parents stay with him. They could get in trouble at work for that. So, he simply skipped making them breakfast—he didn't want to get them sick as well—and headed to school in hopes of avoiding trouble.

He managed _not_ to freeze to death as he finally entered the warmth of his high school building, heading to his locker to grab the pills that he kept for just this occasion. After swallowing two, he grabbed his notebooks and headed to homeroom.

When he walked in, the desks were pushed to the side and the chairs were in a circle. Jack paused during his way to his seat, wondering what that was for. As he was about to ask Ms. Thomas his concern, he was pulled to sit down at the only empty seat available, which was beside Mark. _Hooray…_

“Finally,” she grinned. “Everyone’s here.” Ms. Thomas made her way to lock the door. “Okay, class! As many of you are wondering, this homeroom is going to be a bit different. Other than the usual talking and texting and homework you usually do in the mornings, we're going to play a game. You guys have known each other for a while now, right?”

A few students nodded. Jack only folded his arms over his chest.

“Well, this is a team building exercise, where you have to pick one person from this classroom and compliment them on one thing you like about them. Once you have, the person you chose will choose someone and compliment _them_ , and so on. Please, be kind and honest. I can tell when you're not putting much thought into what you say because ‘I think you're cool’ is not a valid compliment here. So, uh, let’s begin… Who volunteers to go first?”

A girl named Cindy began and complimented some boy named Aaron. She called him “funny and smart and the best friend anyone could ever ask for!” Jack wanted to gag. Aaron looked around the room and chose some girl Jack didn't even know, telling her she was cool and “pleasant to be around.” The girl smiled and then looked to Mark, telling him, quote, “You’re one of the sweetest guys I know, and I know you're going places. You're great at football, and I know you love giving people chances… Even if they don't deserve it,” she glanced at Jack briefly.

Jack looked to his feet and coughed into the crook of his elbow, trying to avoid noticing how everyone looked at _him_ , directly. It didn't work as well as he wanted it to.

Jack felt worse all of a sudden. Some girl he didn't even _know_ managed to think he was a total douche, and it suddenly hurt. The way everyone looked at him was terrible, and all the walls he had put up to avoid feeling this way suddenly crumbled down. Everyone hated him, and the worst part was that Jack knew why. He always acted like a jerk, trying to show he doesn't care what other people think, but he know he does. He cares. And it made him so weak to put up an act that everyone already knew wasn't true.

“Jack,” he heard Mark say. At first he thought he was just talking to him because he hadn't stopped coughing (turns out his escape was lasting _way_ too long), but then he realized that Mark was talking too loud to be considered a private conversation. Jack tried to stop coughing loud enough to listen and failed, then felt someone pat him on the back to help (even though it really didn't).

“Oh, fuck…” he said between his coughing fits. “Sorry.” He croaked out as he managed to swallow back his discomfort. Jack looked up.

Everyone was staring at him. It twisted his nerves until he was blushing in embarrassment and looked to the floor.

“Are you okay?” Ms. Thomas said, looking at him in slight disgust.

“Y-yeah,” Jack squeaked. “Sick. Sorry, continue… Uh… Whoever was going…”

Mark looked to him and laughed softly. “I was talking to _you_.”

“You were?” Jack muttered. “Wait?” he didn't seem to pick the pieces together. Mark was talking to him as he was fucking _dying_ , but he was talking too loud. Everyone could hear him. And Mark had gotten picked… Oh. “ _Oh!_ Okay… Listening.”

Mark gave a lazy smile and began, “I like how you speak your mind. You don't care what other people think, or what they say, because you always know what to say right back. You're pretty cool guy to be around, and I hope we get closer.” Mark stopped, and said awkwardly, “Your turn.”

Jack flinched. _Does Mark read minds or something? If you can hear me, I’m going to kill you. Blink twice. Cough. Do something. Anything? I'm gonna kill you for making me feel worse about myself._

“Right… Thanks?” Jack said cautiously, his gaze slowly trailing back to the group. Jack picked a random person and pointed out how they were smart and athletic and how they knew what they were doing. Not that he meant it. Ms. Thomas didn't seem to notice. Great.

Jack thought of the way everyone glared at him as if he had killed their hero, and tried thinking of how much of a dick he had been to make people he didn't _know_ hate him. Jack folded his arms over his chest as he attempted to push away thoughts of how others saw him, but couldn't. And maybe it was because he was sick, but suddenly, he felt sad. As if _he_ was gonna cry, Jack mentally scoffed at the thought. _I never cry. Especially at what other people think, because that doesn't matter… Right?_ Jack thought, staring at the ground beneath his shoes. But that didn't make him feel better.

**{...}**

“Okay everybody! Time for a project!” Ms. Garza chirped as Jack took his seat, glaring back at both Olivia and Gabriel. A few people groaned, but Jack perked up at the announcement. It was a lot better than his own thoughts.

“We will be focusing on candid shots! On the board, I will be displaying 30 different emotions, and you will pick one and take a picture of an event that shows the emotion you picked. It's simple. Any questions?”

Jack bounced his leg up and down in excitement. He had waited for this for so long that now he could imagine how happy dogs are when they're about to go for a walk.

Ms. Garza walked to the white board and began writing emotions that she must have taken a _long_ time to come up with. The easiest ones were joy, sadness, grief, victory, passion, peace, focus, and love. Those would be instantly taken. Others were things like anxiety, loneliness, defeat, disappointment, hate, embarrassment, trust, jealousy, betrayal, and regret. Those would probably get easily picked as well. The rest were confusion, unity, empathy, illness, nostalgia, conflict, thrill, relief, gratitude, anger, negligence, and relentless.

Ms. Garza smiled. “Begin raising your hands when you have your topic.”

Jack was completely right. A lot of emotions were being crossed over and Jack was surprised to see that a few people picked what they picked. For example, Olivia chose nostalgia and Gabriel chose anxiety. Mark, however, chose relief. Jack supposed you can't judge a book by its cover.

By the end of the choosing, there was only one emotion displayed and Jack was surprised it was still there. It was passion. Jack supposed he could do that one. At the end, Ms. Garza looked to him silently and he nodded. Without a word, she crossed the word off the list.

“This will be a month-long project that will take up most of your grade. I hope you guys have an idea of what to take.”

Sadly, Jack had no clue.

**{...}**

Jack was exiting photography class when he was stopped by Olivia, who cornered him against the wall near the class’s door. Today she had her usual pound of makeup on, wearing a skirt and blouse, and brown hair put up in a messy pony tail. But her face was twisted into an angry expression, and it failed to intimidate him.

“What the fuck do you want?” he gritted his teeth. He hadn't done anything to mess with her all day. He was still sick, so he wasn't gonna waste his breath on people he shouldn't care about.

“You’re getting on my fucking nerves.”

“What the fuck have I done to you this past week?”

“All the stupid remarks you fucking say. They're annoying as shit and you need to drop whatever cool guy act you're playing and stop. No one cares about your bullshit and you fucking know it. No one's impressed, _Sean_.”

Jack clenched his fists, wanting to knock her teeth in right there. But he didn't. His parents wouldn't want to go pick him up just because he got in a fight. So he held his stance and glared at her.

“Don’t fucking call me that,” Jack growled. “I don't care about what you have to say. Your inane bitching isn’t the biggest of my problems, and if it _was_ , you would be hearing a lot more from me. Now fuck off! I’m goin’ to class.”

Olivia scoffed, “You think you're so fucking tough, but you're not. You're a coward, and no one fucking cares about you.”

His glare wavered, but he tried not to let it show. No way was he going to let _that_ happen. Jack refused to shove her away. “You’re nothin’ but talk, Olivia. You can't do shit to me.”

“You wanna see me do something?”

“I’d love to see you try.”

Olivia clenched her fists. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here, and when I do, you're going to regret messing with me, _bitch_.” With that last sentence, she shoved Jack into a wall and stomped away.

Jack rolled his blue eyes at her retreating figure and began walking to class. He ignored the way her words still rang around in his head.

**{...}**

Jack still wasn't feeling well when he went outside to smoke. His hands were shaking and his chest hurt from the cold, and if he looked in the mirror, he was sure he would see his pale face and blue lips.

But Jack wasn't feeling very happy either.

Despite the discomfort his sickness caused, he felt hurt. All of the day's events seemed to have broken him, because all he could think about was the way everyone hated him. Suddenly, the punk Jack became nothing but the sensitive Sean from before, and all his progress was for nothing. All those years of not caring—of deflecting bullets and knives and weapons—caught up to him and his armor had broken. Every weapon he had managed to ward off came back at once.

And fuck, did it hurt.

He began crying before he even gripped his lighter. Tears ran down his cheeks, feeling like fire on his cold skin. He tried not to sob, and was partly successful due to his throat being absolutely _shredded_. Instead, he sniffed cold air and buried his head deep into his knees, trying to fold himself into the smallest thing he could be and become nothing.

God, Jack felt so stupid. He should have asked to move schools—to have started over when he had the chance. He should have ditched his problems when he could have, but now he had an entire grade level full of people who hated him. To his peers, he was nothing but a loner, an idiot who thinks he's all that. He's a bitch to everyone for no reason, and that's why he was crying against a wall, all alone. Jack’s parents had asked if he wanted to move. He said no, because maybe if he didn't move, he wouldn't give anyone the satisfaction of driving him away. But never had he felt a need so strong to just be proven wrong, and to run away from a problem that never seemed to end. Jack had been so close to the end of the road, but then suddenly, he was stranded.

His tears didn't cease as he warred with himself. Jack never felt so weak. Consequently, he didn't notice the footsteps until it was too late.

“Jack?” a familiar voice asked. It was close, and footsteps stopped to his left. He tensed, confusion and embarrassment both overtaking his nerves. His body was arguing over whether to glare at the person to go away or keep his head down and wait for them to leave. He chose the latter option, after the puzzle pieces clicked together and he realized Mark had once again joined him at the wrong time.

_Of course. Mark. I forgot he always came here. I'm such a fuckin’ idiot._

“Jack? Are you okay?” Mark asked, concern audible in his deep voice. _Puberty must have been good to him. Who am I kidding? Of course it was. Isn't it obvious?_

Jack didn't respond, trying not to sniff too loud for the other man to hear. He kept his head low, not daring to show how weak he truly was. Jack winced at the fact that he was crying in school, and feeling broken or not, he was embarrassed that someone had caught him. A small part of him wished the other would go away, and another wished Jack just could stop himself from crying. Mark didn't need to know that Jack, the outcast of the school, broke down after realizing no one liked him. Maybe if Jack didn't respond, Mark wouldn't notice. Maybe Mark would finally give up.

“What’s wrong?” Mark whispered low enough that Jack could barely hear.

_Of course he wouldn't give up._

Jack heard Mark shift beside him, presumably sitting down, then felt something press against his side.

Then he heard the man speak.

“You know, I had a really weird day. After homeroom, people kept talking to me. I dunno… Praising me? I told them to, you know… Stop, but they just kept talking to me. Eventually I just told them to fuck off… A few people told me I was being a dick. I didn't care. When I got to photography class, I was kinda happy to see we finally got to start our project. Heh, I even saw you become a bit happier when she said it. It looked a lot better than the glares you were giving back to Olivia and Gabriel. But afterwards,” Mark paused for a while. “I was at a loss with to what could be considered relieving. I kinda thought back to the hiking trips I took once and awhile with my mom. When she and I would reach the top, and she would let out a long sigh as if all the work she'd ever done was finally paid off. She would look at the sky, and then look to me, and… I still remember what she said once. She said, ‘One day you'll find your idea of peace, and maybe you'll only find it once. But once you do, I want you to grab on and follow your peace to the ends of the Earth.’" Mark then paused, and the silence left Jack wondering if Mark was going to continue. He did, “I thought of all the times my dad and I used to sit in each other’s company after he had a long day at work, just enjoying the silence. He never spoke to me during those times. It was always just… quiet, because I knew he would like the quiet after finishing work.”

Jack furrowed his brows. Mark must miss his father. He nuzzled his head closer to his knees, still not wanting to look up.

“And then, I thought of you.”

Jack gripped at his arms, the words confusing him. Still, he didn't manage to hold back his tears, but he ignored the feeling in favor for Mark’s voice.

“I thought back to sixth grade, when we used to joke and laugh with Bob and Wade. When you and I played video games. When we went to each other’s houses…” Jack heard the small chuckle he made, and it helped look back into memories of him and Mark. Of easier times. “I remembered when we used to sleep over, and we stayed up all night that one time, just talking.”

Jack remembered that clearly. It was in seventh grade, in the middle of winter when he had visited Mark’s for two days. Over the night, Jack and Mark did nothing but talk about how they were gonna spend their future. Jack had told Mark about his love for music. Mark had told him he wanted to be an engineer. Jack had gone on and on about how high school was going to be awesome, and how he was sure Mark could do whatever he set his mind to. At one point, they had even talked about swearing off girlfriends until college, and another point, Jack was ranting about his siblings.

“I remembered that time in eighth grade, where we were taking class pictures, and you were freaking out because you found out Felix was trying to put gum in your hair,” Mark chuckled, and Jack smiled at that memory. He had thrown away any gum Felix had, and wore a hat the entire day. Mark had told him it suit him, so he had worn it often afterwards. Jack absolutely loved it. He had lost it a few weeks later, but it had grown on him.

“I remember that time you tried pushing me into a puddle of mud and ended up slipping and falling.”

Jack laughed, pulling his head up, and wiping his tears away. He had remembered having a smile on his face for weeks after that incident. For a second, he forgot all about his worries, the true reality of his situation in favor of laughing at a memory with Mark right beside him. Jack grinned, “My mom got so mad at me for that.”

Mark laughed again, but it faded into silence. Quietly he said, “The reason I thought of you was because you were my relief when I couldn't find mine.”

Jack’s tears were now gone, but his eyes were probably still red and teary. Even though the harsh cold slapped his face, he managed to smile and look to his old friend. And suddenly, he felt a little guilty for ignoring the guy for so long. Mark had been persistent, even when Jack clearly didn't want him around. He licked his lips nervously, looking down in shame, “Look, I’m sorry. I've been… An asshole.”

Mark shrugged, “I’ve been a bigger one. I’m sorry. I ignored you for so long. I don't even know why.”

“That’s…” Jack looked away. “That’s okay. At least _you're_ making an effort.”

“Heh, that’s true,” Mark agreed. He stayed quiet for a while. “I didn't know people could change so quickly.”

Jack nodded, knowing exactly what Mark was talking about. “… I haven't even _spoken_ to Felix since the eighth grade… Wade and Bob don't even recognize me. Aaron and Ryan… probably don't even remember me… Or Arin and Danny… Or Matt and Ryan,” Jack said honestly. “And you… A month ago, I would have said we barely know each other. And… That's probably still true.”

“I’m not _that_ different,” Mark joked, but his smile faded when Jack looked at him with a blank stare.

“You seem like it.”

Jack stared into Mark, trying to find the emotion the other was portraying. Turns out, he wasn't portraying any. He had a blank expression, but a strong gaze back into Jack’s, almost as if he was trying to do the same thing.

That’s when Jack realized how close they were together. Jack had so much space that he could move to, but he didn't. Mark didn't move either. His sides touched his, and Jack could feel the warmth that Mark radiated.

 _What am I doing?_ Alarms blared in his head, warning him that he was saying too much, showing too much, and that he was letting the very threat that he had tried to avoid just _walk right in._

_You're going to get hurt again._

Jack inhaled sharply at the thought and looked out into the street, which was fenced off from where they sat. “What are you doing here, anyways?”

“Oh…” Mark said quietly, then tensed. “Oh fuck! I forgot to tell you that you've been out here all through lunch. Class already started. And,” Mark glanced to his watch. “ _And_ … it's about to end…”

Jack shot up, “Fuck, really?” Then, he relaxed, remembering the classes he had, “Oh whatever. Art sucks anyways.”

“Heh, there goes my effort to learn German.”

Jack laughed, throwing his head back, and grinned. “Oh well.” He sniffed, and looked to the ground. “I guess I get to leave early.”

“Huh? What—do you have a free period?” Mark asked.

“Yeah,” Jack nodded. “I walk home anyways, so I may as well get a head start. I don't need to go back to homeroom.” Jack pulled out his lighter. “Do you want a smoke?”

Mark nodded, and Jack pulled out his pack. As he looked inside, his shoulders slumped. “Nevermind. I ran out.” Jack ran a hand through his hair nervously. He remembered the situation he was in, and turned a bit tense.

Mark raised an eyebrow at that. “Hm… Want to go buy some?”

Jack furrowed his brows in confusion. “Uh, how?”

Mark shoved his hands in his pocket, and pulled out keys. “I have a car and my friend is 21.”

Jack voiced his concern, desperately trying to find more excuses, “But what about your class?”

“Oh, who cares? AP Bio is an easy class, and Ms. Thomas already fucking loves me,” Mark grinned, standing up. He dusted himself off and then held a hand out to Jack. “It’ll be fine. Come on.”

Jack looked at the hand offered to him, and then to Mark’s face. Mark was grinning widely, and the optimism the other guy was showing was so adorable, Jack couldn't say no. So he smiled back and took the other’s hand. But before he stood, he gripped the other’s palm tightly, narrowing his eyes. “If you ever tell anyone what you saw out here, I will make your life a living hell.”

Mark pulled him up, his eyes wide at first, but then he grinned kindly. “I wouldn't tell a soul, Jack.”

“Good,” Jack brightened and gave a small smile. “Where’s your friend at?”

“He’s, um… I don't know, but I'm gonna text him. I don't actually know where he is,” Mark said. “How do _you_ usually get cigarettes?”

“I usually get them from one of my neighbors,” Jack said. “She sells ‘em to me all the time, but she's at work right now.”

“Wow, what a great neighborhood,” Mark said sarcastically, leading the way to his car.

Mark unlocked the doors and went in, then turned the key in its slot. Jack sat beside him in the passenger’s seat, squirming uncomfortably. It had dawned upon him that he was probably gonna regret letting Mark talk to him. It was never good to let his guard down, and here Jack was, practically giving his enemy the gun, bullets, and target.

“Uh, you okay there?” Mark questioned. He pulled the car out of its parking space as Jack froze.

“Would you be okay sitting in someone else’s car?” Jack said, trying to calm down. “‘m just nervous. I haven't actually hung out with anyone in a long time.”

“Oh,” Mark said, sympathetically. “I’m sorry.”

Jack scoffed at the other’s tone; he didn't need pity… Jack just needed to man up again, right? Right. Jack just needed to stop being such a wuss. He’ll just blow right past this without anything going wrong. Jack simply replied, “Whatever.” He looked out the window and looked at the building that had managed to shape him so differently inside.

Then, Jack looked over to Mark, who now sported a jacket and jeans. His hair was neatly combed, and he didn't have his glasses on. Actually, when was the last time Jack saw his glasses? Jack scrunched his nose in confusion, and stated his curiosity, “What happened to your glasses?”

Mark hummed thoughtfully as he drove out of the school’s gates. “I… Stopped putting them on… After a few people told me I shouldn't put them on anymore.”

Jack then raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Why would you do _that_?”

“I… Don't know. I guess I really wanted people to like me. I guess I didn't know any better. I had thrown them away and put on contacts,” Mark explained, pursing his lips at his past actions. Then he glanced to Jack, “You never answered my question.”

Jack looked back to him from his gaze on the window. “What question?”

Mark asked, “Why and when did you dye your hair green?”

Jack grinned back to when he had first dyed his hair. He had stained a ton of his clothes. “I dyed my hair in the middle of Christmas break, back in sophomore year. My sisters and brothers were visiting, and they had dared me to dress up like an elf. I had gone full package with the green hair and everything. I guess I like the color. I keep re-dyeing it.”

Mark laughed at a memory he didn't see, but could only imagine. “I dyed my hair pink as a dare. Then blue. Then silver. Then red. I dunno, I was having a dyeing-spree last year, and I kept using temporary hair dye.” He laughed, “The shirt I used looks like a fucking rainbow now.”

Jack grinned widely, chuckling. “Don’t people say that what you wear is who you are? Are you a rainbow child, Mark?”

Mark chuckled, “Yes, yes, I am.”

Jack smiled, but didn't question if that was true or not. Instead, he looked back at the window, and enjoyed the silence.

The ride there was now slightly quiet, but Jack saw it as comfortable silence, even though his brain was screaming at him to ditch the car and jump out. Jack was seriously breaking his rules this year. And Jack didn't want to look too into it. Because this ride was about getting cigarettes, not about being friends or anything. Jack was being polite. And _Mark_ was being polite. Because if they weren't being polite, Jack wouldn't be here.

“Okay, he’s over here,” Mark pulled into the parking space of a coffee shop.

“Why is he here, of all places?” Jack asked.

Mark smiled as a bearded man came out of the coffee shop, who gave a friendly wave towards the car he was walking to. “He’s getting off his shift.”

The man climbed into the back seat and Mark drove off, then gave the man money. Jack sat, waiting for an introduction, of _any_ kind. When no one gave it, Jack just asked the man, “What’s your name?”

The man smiled and held out his hand, “My name’s Ken. What’s yours?” Jack instantly noticed his Southern accent.

Jack gave an awkward handshake from his seat up front and said, “Jack. Er, nice to meet you, Ken.”

Mark said from the front seat, “Ken here used to be my neighbor. Now he works at a coffee shop I usually go to with people from school. Ken, Jack is my friend from school.”

Jack sat on his hands to avoid punching Mark for saying friend. They weren't friends, and he had to make sure Mark knew that. But then again, strangers don't hitch a ride in each other’s cars.

Ken said curiously, “But you don't come in the coffee shop with _him_. It’s usually Ethan, Tyler, and Amy.”

Jack stiffened at the mentions of their names, because he knew them all too well as the people who had managed to replace him. He focused on not trying to look dejected from Mark’s indirect confession, so he looked out the window without saying a word.

Mark answered for him, “That’s because Jack _isn't_ them, okay, Ken? Jack had been my friend in middle school, but we grew apart. Now we're hanging out again.”

Jack refused to say anything when a stranger might clearly see him the wrong way. Instead, he clenched his fists and scowled at the passing buildings.

“Why did you guys grow apart?”

Jack didn't respond to that one either. Mark didn't answer for him, instead pulled into the parking space of the convenience store and turned to Ken. “Bring us cigarettes. And maybe some coke.”

“As in cocaine?” Ken asked jokingly. Jack laughed at that one.

Mark rolled his eyes and shoved more money his way. “Keep the change if it means keeping those jokes to yourself.”

Jack smiled as Ken walked out of the car. Mark turned to Jack, “Are you going to homecoming?”

Jack watched Ken walk in the store, then shook his head. “Nah. Football isn't really my thing.”

“You don't want to go to the dance?”

“To do what? Sit around as the loser who went to a public event without any friends?” Jack shook his head. “I’d pass.”

Mark smiled a bit, “But you also don't wanna be known as the guy that skipped out on the dance _because_ he didn't have friends.”

Jack thought that over, “Either be seen as a loser by people in front of me or behind my back…” he scratched his chin in thought. “Better than visible embarrassment. I’d rather not go.”

“Aw, come on, Jack! You get to make fun of people who had smoked weed in the parking lot!” Mark suggested. “And you can _also_ pour alcohol in the punch bowl and watch people get drunk!”

“As tempting as that is, I could make fun of Felix every day,” Jack joked. “And, no, because I bet I won't be the only one to put rum in the punch.”

“But it’s your last year in high school! Don't you want to make some memories?” Mark asked. He then paused, “If you'll be the loser standing by himself, then I'll be the even bigger loser standing next to you, alright?”

Jack asked, “Wow. That was sappy as fuck, dude,” Jack gave a pause, squinting at Mark accusingly, “Why do you want me to go so bad?”

“I just want you to remember your last year as a good year, you know?”

Jack narrowed his eyes at that. “It would have been fine without your help, you know.”

Mark looked down, and at the same time Ken opened the door and handed Mark a bag with two bottles of Coca-Cola, and a Monster energy drink. Ken then held out the cigarettes.

“I bought Jack here a Monster because you look like the kind of guy that drinks those.”

Jack grinned widely. “Hell yeah! Thanks, Ken.”

Mark smiled at Jack’s enthusiasm and handed him the cigarettes and energy drink, then looked to Ken, “Back to your work or at your house?”

“Actually, leave me here. My girlfriend said she'll pick me up.”

Mark handed him his soda, and started the engine as Ken took his things and walked away. He waved goodbye as Mark and Jack left.

Mark grinned, “So?”

Jack looked to him blankly, “So what?”

“Are you going to homecoming?” Mark said happily.

Jack looked to the window nonchalantly, “Can I drink this in here?”

“As long as you don't spill,” Mark ordered, then whined, “But _Jaaack!_ ”

Jack groaned, “Alright, alright! Just get off my back, man.” Jack didn't intend to keep his promise, though. He cracked open the can of Monster and took a sip.

Mark cheered from his seat, grinning as if he won some prize.

Jack chuckled and looked out the window. Then, he noticed they passed the road to head back to school and furrowed his brow. “Wait, where are we going?”

“I’m dropping you off at home,” Mark said as if it was such a simple concept. But Jack was confused even more with his explanation. “I figured, since you were heading home anyways, I would just drop you off. There's no point in you going back to school.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, still slightly confused about why Mark would do that. Instead of asking about that, though, he asked another question on his mind. “You remember where I live?”

Mark said casually, “Well… Yeah. Of course I do.”

Jack sat, surprised, and looked back to the window as questions returned to his head.

Mark _did_ know where he live, because only a few minutes later, Mark was pulling into Jack’s driveway and Jack was unlocking the car door.

“Your parents aren't home?” Mark asked in surprise as Jack looked to him.

Jack shook his head in response. He shoved his hand into his pocket, then handed him a cigarette along with his lighter. “Here. And, uh… Thanks. I, um, I owe you one.”

Mark gave a weary smile, then said awkwardly, “Actually, can I cash in that solid, like… Right now?”

Jack was taken back by that, but nodded despite, “Sure man. Whatever you want.”

Mark’s expression suddenly turned into one of begging, “Can I use your restroom? I gotta take a piss _really_ badly.”

Jack chuckled as he made his way to unlock his front door, then opened it for Mark. Mark shot past him and went upstairs, clearly remembering where it was.

Now, Jack wouldn't say his house was _small_. There was only the living room, dining room, and kitchen downstairs (along with his garage, but that didn't count) and three bedrooms upstairs. One for his parents, one for him, and one that now acted as a guest room. They had only one bathroom, which was a _nightmare_ back when his four siblings weren't moved out. But Jack would say with such a big home comes an advantage. The advantage being the thin walls and open space, of course.

Such as, Jack could hear when Mark got out of the restroom, but didn't hear him come downstairs.

He simply drank from his Monster and let his leg bounce up and down in anticipation. Did Mark walk into his room? _Is he looking at the pictures hanging on the walls? Or the clothes I had forgotten to pick up from the floor? Was he going to see that dent in the wall I made when I threw my phone?_

Jack giggled at the thought. _That phone never saw it coming._

God, Jack could just _feel_ the energy coursing through his veins. He tried to think back to how he had left his room.

His room was actually big, since it used to hold three beds in it. Now that Jack was alone, it was a lot more empty. He hung video game and band posters up on the wall, along with pictures he had taken with his camera. The only other decoration he had were white Christmas lights that hung around the entire edge of the ceiling. When you first walk in, you can see his bed in the farthest corner from the door, a window right beside it. On the wall closest to the door was his dresser and mirror, and to the right was his closet. Sitting to the side was his drum set, which had managed to collect dust over the past few weeks.

Just as Jack was trying to remember if he left his clothes on the floor, he heard the front door knob jiggle. His eyes widened. His parents were never home early. They were going to see him be home early, and _shit_ they must have seen Mark’s car!

Jack grabbed all his shit and ran upstairs, catching Mark staring at the wall and grabbed his arm. Mark asked frantic questions of “ _What’s wrong?_ ” and “ _Ow, what the fuck is happening?_ ”

Jack was fucking terrified, but he pulled him into his room and closed the door. “My parents are home.”

“Your what?” Mark said, eyes wide. Then he furrowed his brow in a look of utter confusion, “Wait, don't they know that you're here?”

“No, they _don't_ know I basically skip school and head home early every day,” Jack explained, the hand holding his can of Monster shaking in nervous energy.

“They’ll understand, right?”

Just as Jack was about to respond, he heard his mother call out from down the hall, “Jack? Are you home, sweetie? Who’s car is out front?”

And Jack facepalmed at his even _bigger_ mistake. He had closed the _door_. His mom was going to be so confused about why he was in his room with some guy when he should be at school. And god, there was so much he had to do, but he couldn't do them. “Oh fuck, I’m so stupid."

Mark raised an eyebrow. “Uh, yeah, I know you are, but why say that now?”

“Shut up,” Jack snapped, pacing back and forth. He had the intention of opening the door, but first he set his backpack down after putting his pack of cigarettes inside, then drank down all of his energy drink quickly.

“I’m just saying dude. No reason to freak out your mom even——"

“Jack, is someone in there with you?” Jack heard from outside his door. Jack opened the door to show his mom, still in her work uniform, about to open the door herself.

Jack nodded awkwardly, “Sorry, ma, didn't hear you.”

“And what were you doing with the door closed?” His mother asked, fists to her hips. Strangely, he could see a hint of a smile on her lips.

“Yeah, see that was my mistake, I forgot I shouldn't close doors around here,” Jack said, tapping his foot repeatedly on the floor.

“Well, next time, just tell me if you have a boyfriend,” his mom grinned. “Finally! Is this Mark? Wow, you grew up to be such a strong boy! Your mother never told me how you held up. I thought you would never swing by here again, Mark… And Jack, you finally have someone to talk to again! I was beginning to think you would never bring home a special friend of yours!”

Jack groaned, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment, “Not dating, ma. We're not dating.” He heard Mark behind him laughing.

“Why have the door closed then?”

Mark said softly behind Jack, “I can assure you nothing happened, Mrs. McLoughlin. Jack and I are still just friends.”

“Aw, and he’s still such a gentleman! Why _haven't_ you dated him yet?” his mother said, smiling at Mark.

“Ma! Seriously! He’s not gay,” Jack said, red tinting his cheeks.

His mom visibly slouched. “Well at least you brought home _someone_. No matter how confused they are.”

“Ma!” Jack exclaimed in shock. “He just dropped me off!”

“Then what is he doing in here?”

“He had to use the restroom,” Jack replied.

“In here?” his mother asked.

“No! He used the restroom _in the_ restroom, and I pulled him in here,” Jack answered.

“Well!” his mother finally said, probably not going to push for more answers. “I guess I’ll leave you two to your devices. If you need anything, you can probably find it in your dad’s drawer,” his mom winked at Mark, who now stood beside him. “ _Very_ nice things in there, if you want to try them on——”

Jack put on a mortified face. “Ma!”

“Don’t worry! I’m leaving!”

Jack watched as she walked to her room and he turned to Mark. Mark was laughing.

“Oh hush,” Jack said, glaring. “I’m seriously scarred for life from that one conversation.”

Mark smiled after laughing, “She still remembers me?”

Jack nodded, “You had made quite the impact on my life. Just be glad my dad didn't come in.”

Mark grinned, then faltered. He stayed silent for a bit, then said jokingly, “God, Jack, you looked like you did drugs.”

Jack noticed how his foot kept tapping on the ground, and how he bit his lips every few seconds. His heart was beating a mile per second. Jack shrugged, “It’s just that drink.”

Mark smirked, “Too much for you to handle?”

Jack shook his head, pacing back and forth, “I feel like I could kill a deer.”

Mark burst out laughing, grinning and then looking to the side. Jack followed his gaze. Mark was looking at his pictures. Hung on the wall were pictures he took about a month ago. Mark walked up to one and grabbed it. “When did you take this?”

Jack walked beside him and looked over his shoulder. The picture Mark was holding was a black-and-white picture of his parents in the dining room. The image showed his dad drinking coffee and reading his newspaper as his mother smiled at her husband in something of adoration.

Jack remembered taking that when they weren't looking. He smiled. “I took that a month ago. Back when I first got a camera. When I showed it to them, they said they should have it framed. So I simply hung it up. They have another copy of it in their room.”

“You’re good,” Mark praised, grinning at the shot. He placed it back on the wall, looking towards another image of a bird’s nest with three eggs and no bird guarding it. “Like, _really_ good.”

“You know how hard it was to take that one?” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “I almost fell off a tree.”

Mark chuckled and looked to another picture of a single light bulb. It was one of his Christmas lights, and just a focused shot—to Jack, it wasn't special. There was another picture of a person sitting on the roof of a car, looking up to a dark sky. Mark smiled at that one. The tanned teen grabbed another of a little girl looking up to something that seemed to glow. She looked fascinated with whatever was in front of her.

“I swear to god, you're really good,” Mark smiled.

Jack smiled shyly; he wasn't used to compliments anymore. “Thanks. I’m sure you're good too.”

“Not compared to you.”

Jack looked to the floor. He was breaking too many of his rules.

“Can I ask you a question?” Mark asked, his deep voice making the curiosity roll off his tongue smoothly and darkly. He was still looking at Jack’s pictures, and Jack’s nerves stood on edge with uneasiness.

Jack felt his heart in his throat as he nodded. Energy drinks were going to kill him.

Mark looked to Jack, brown eyes meeting blue, “Can I smoke in here?”

Jack nodded blankly, then smirking when the question became processed in his head. “Just hush.” He went to close the door and grabbed his bag.

Mark pulled out the cigarette Jack gave him earlier and placed it on his mouth, then lit it quietly. As he inhaled, his eyes shut peacefully.

Jack pulled out a cigarette of his own. “Light me.”

Mark did as he was asked, hovering the flame near Jack’s face.

Jack inhaled nicotine into his lungs, letting the relief wash over him. He watched as the smoke curled in the air intricately, forming lines that almost resembled shapes. He enjoyed the silence, it was a nice way to just let him reflect on everything’s that’s happened. Which was a lot.

Mark let out a puff of smoke. “God, it feels so much better to do this.”

Jack gave a lazy smile. He barely could lift his arm to smoke now, let alone talk.

“You know, I think I figured out why we stopped talking,” Mark said.

Jack listened intently, a flash of discomfort with the topic made visible when he shifted to lay down on his bed. Mark sat on the floor.

“I was such a dick. You know Amy? You know how she goes to that other school in the East?”

Jack nodded, letting out a puff of smoke. He didn't want to hear it, but he didn't have the nerve to interrupt.

“She was, like, a fucking Regina George there. And me dating her, suddenly meant that people in our school knew me. Suddenly, people started... _talking_ to me. As if me dating someone popular made me finally get noticed,” Mark waved his arms around, ranting, “Back then, I didn't realize why. So I thought, maybe I'm making new friends. So I talked to them and they talked to me, and people started, like, thinking I was cool. I was still such a fucking nerd though. I didn't get how being ‘popular’ works. I dunno, eventually it got in my head that everyone liked me. And I had never had that… So I tried so hard to keep it that way,” Mark sighed. “And I stopped talking to you completely. And in the middle of sophomore year, Amy broke up with me. The bad thing is, I didn't even care. I acted like I did, but I didn’t…” Mark sighed, looking to the floor as if contemplating his next words. “… And junior year was hard, but… Suddenly she asked for me back. I said I just wanted to be friends. She agreed to that. And I guess the whole ‘perfect Mark’ thing stuck. And I know not _everyone_ likes me and shit, but it took me a while to realize… that in twenty years, it’s not gonna matter if I was popular in high school. It's not gonna matter what these people think of me.”

Jack looked to him quietly, his eyes half-lidded in sleepiness. His throat itched. Even though he was hearing such a heart-felt confession, Jack didn't have any thoughts to it.

Mark sighed, running his free hand through his hair. “I joined football because people said I would be good. I dyed my hair because people think I would be cool like that. I dated people I don't care about because people said I would look cute with them. I stopped talking to you because I thought people wouldn't like me if I did. I followed all these rules that kept me from doing what I actually liked. The rules just kept me… Trapped. But I realized that shouldn't matter. The rules _didn't_ matter. I realized I ignored my mom’s advice that once I found my peace—my _relief_ —I would hold on to it and never let go,” Mark paused. Blowing out a bit of smoke, his expression turned blank, “But I didn't. And I regret that.”

Jack let out a bit of smoke with his sigh. “That’s okay. You have all of senior year to redeem yourself.”

“I guess so… Listen, Jack… Can we please be friends again?” Mark pleaded, and Jack would joke about how he's begging if it weren't so serious. Mark _wanted_ to be friends with him. Even though he had all the popular friends at school.

 _He's going to hurt you again. What if this is a prank? What if he's doing this to mess with you?_ Jack looked to Mark, trying to see any hint of mischief in the other person’s eyes. He didn't find any, and Jack ended up staring at soft brown eyes that reminded Jack of coffee; they were warm and comforting and suddenly Jack was debating with himself.

_But if he's not, then you'll feel guilty about rejecting his offer for friendship._

“Sure,” Jack said, not thinking twice. God, he was so gonna regret ever saying okay. But then again, Mark hadn't made fun of him yet, even though he's had the chance. _Maybe it would be… Alright?_ He puffed out smoke, grinning insanely at the way his room smelled like. “No harm in breaking a few rules on the way.”

Mark smiled, softly, “Alright. Well, I better get going. Is your mom going to get mad for, er, smoking?”

“Please. She gives me a few cigarettes along with bottles of Bourbon for breakfast. Don't you know we're from Ireland? But if you need to, feel free to take a few mints, dude. You smell like a motel room.”

Mark laughed and smiled then tossed him his lighter. “Thanks, Jack. See you tomorrow, bro.”

Jack waved him off as he walked out the room, and with that, Jack closed his eyes and went to sleep, a cigarette laying on the floor.


	3. Impulsive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> im·pul·sive  
> /imˈpəlsiv/  
>  _adjective_  
>  1\. acting or done without forethought.  
>  _synonyms:_ impetuous, spontaneous, hasty, passionate, emotional, uninhibited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally found a good ongoing chapter summary thing!!!!!! YAY! PLUS, FLUFF! YAY! AND RESPONSIBILITIES!!!........... yay....  
> P.S. THIS IS NOWHERE NEAR THE END OF THE STORY BUT I GOT TO FIGURE OUT HOW TIME WORKS.  
> P.P.S. IT'S STILL TUESDAY IN Hawaii :D you're welcome Hawaiians. Sorry British people, it's like 9 there

“Fuck off,” Jack wanted to shout at people who just _wouldn't shut up_ , upset he even agreed to this. But Mark had insisted that he stayed, and Jack didn't see anything better he had to do.

The next week had been a bit different. In homeroom, for the most part, Jack and Mark didn't speak due to the running errands thing. Jack spoke back to Mark as often as Mark spoke to him. Other than that, photography class was quiet as always—Mark and Jack didn't do anything but help each other on projects and for the first time, Jack didn't pay attention to Olivia and Gabriel. But lunch was probably the only time Mark and Jack spoke like real “friends.” They often had real conversations about their day and how life had been going. Once and a while, they just stood in silence. Jack thought it was pretty nice.

Jack still couldn't help but think Mark was just building up for some prank or ultimate betrayal kind of thing. It just seemed so weird that Mark suddenly asked for forgiveness and openly hanged out with him. Which was the reason he refused to give Mark any of his contact information, even though it was bad enough that the guy knew his fucking address.

Other than that, though, Mark was actually being nice. Decent enough to not raise any more suspicion, at least. But at the moment, all Jack wanted to do was murder his so-called friend.

It was the day before homecoming, and Mark had to practice every afternoon after school, and that day, he had asked if Jack wanted to watch. So there he was, waiting for Mark to finish practice. The bad thing was that so was everybody else.

Jack knew what this school was like. This school was obsessed with trends and shit like that, and anyone who made the trend were considered _gods_. Which is why Jack sat by himself, watching all the football players run around like fucking squirrels on a field as 20 other people watched just Mark play. It was as if he was a celebrity! Like as if Mark was the reincarnation of Jesus, and all they wanted to do was watch him sweat in shorts despite the cold wind and grey sky.

Jack, to say the least, found it disgusting. Not _Mark_. But how they _treated_ him as if he was better. Not saying that Mark wasn't special, but Jack didn't believe anyone was of a higher fucking existence.

Maybe Jack just wasn't seeing this right. Surely they're not as stupid as he's making them out to be!

Jack _wished_ he was wrong.

At the end of practice, Mark was heading back with his team, probably to get changed and drink water (Jack didn't know what they did back there!). By then Jack had grown bored and leaned back in his seat, listening to music on his phone. He was falling asleep, so he jumped up when he felt someone tap on his shoulder.

“Fuck!” Jack cursed. He looked around for his attacker, only to find Mark grinning beside him. Jack sat up, focusing on wiping the smug grin off of the guy’s face. “Oh fuck you!”

Mark smiled, “Maybe later.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah, ‘cause you already had your workout, huh?” He gave a smirk to the American beside him, and the man chuckled.

“Wouldn’t mind a second.”

Jack scoffed, shoving him away. Mark only smiled wider. “So, I’m guessing you wanna head home?” Mark asked, gathering things in his duffel bag.

Jack shrugged. “Whatever you want man.” His gaze trailed off behind Mark, where the group of people who had cheered for Mark were staring. A girl glared when they caught him looking, and he recognized the glare instantly. It was the same glare he had received the day they had to compliment other people in homeroom. The girl he didn't know the name of managed to make him feel sick again. He quickly looked away.

Jack glanced to Mark, who was busy trying to stuff things into his bag to notice Jack was red and feeling guilty. Jack felt bad. Why should he be the one sitting beside Mark when there were plenty of other people that could do the same?

Before Jack could realize it, he was speaking again. “Actually, no, you don't have to do anything. I can just head home—by myself.”

Mark paused in the rearranging of his bag, looking at Jack. Jack didn't look back. “Jack, remember… I don't feel bad dropping you off at home. I mean, you already stayed all through practice. It’s the least I could do.”

Jack shook his head, “No, no, it’s okay.” He stood up, shoving his earphones in his pocket. “I don't want to waste your time.” He gave the best smile he could muster, which was honestly a fake one. “Bye.” He began jogging down the bleachers, turning down the exit and began walking home.

“Wait!” Jack heard Mark call from far away.

Sadly, he also heard a few girls say, “You don't need him, Mark. Anyways, I was wondering——”

Jack broke into a sprint to stop hearing the words that made something drop into the pit of his stomach.

He didn't stop running until he was far away from the school. There, he paused, panting from how long he ran. He frowned, guilt sitting heavily on his chest when he finally regained his energy. There goes his stupid impulsivity ruining everything again. Mark would be fine. It wasn't like they were _truly_ friends.

Halfway through his walk, Jack shakily pulled out his pack of cigarettes and lighter, huffing out in frustration when the wind put the flame out. His cigarette ended up falling. Jack miserably pouted at his luck.

It looked like it was going to rain.

Tiny droplets hit his skin, a few on his arms, and a couple on his face. Jack looked up, and a raindrop hit him in his eye. Cursing the sky, he continued walking down the sidewalk, hoping the rain wouldn't be downpour.

Sadly, those tiny droplets came faster, and faster, and _faster_. Before he knew it, Jack was cold and drenched in water. His clothes would not fare well tonight.

The rain fell like shattered glass from the sky. The wind made the water stab at his face, the water fast and small enough to make every single droplet sting. His skin was going to be abused from _water_. How pathetic was that?

Even worse, Jack felt his cough coming back on.

Just as he was about to collapse from illness, he heard a car driving beside him. It stopped right in front of him, and Jack froze. _Am I about to get kidnapped? Can I attack? Wait, does a pencil act as a weapon?_

He saw the car door open and saw someone climb out. Jack wanted to run.

Already getting soaked from head to toe, was Mark.

“Jack!” Mark called out, yelling over the rain loudly hitting pavement. “Jack!” He walked quickly up to him. “Dude! It’s so fucking loud out here!”

Jack shook his head, taking a small step back, “It’s just the rain. Get back in your car!”

“What?” Mark asked incredulously. “No! Dude, you must be soaking! Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

Jack stayed put, and Mark walked up closer, grabbing his arm. “Come on! You're gonna get sick again.”

Jack simply shook his head, pulling his arm away. “Just go without me.”

Mark sighed impatiently, “I didn't want to do this, but…”

“Do wha——" the blue-eyed boy asked until he felt Mark grab onto his legs. Jack felt the ground leave from below him; his feet being swept out from under him. He flailed his arms, expecting to fall. His arms came in contact with something, and he latched on immediately. “Mark!” he squeaked, instantly blaming Mark for his lack of balance.

Confused, he looked around to find Mark’s face inches from his, and his hair flat on his head and a small smile that Jack wanted to wipe off so badly. Jack's eyes widened at the proximity of their faces. He didn't know if his face was heating up because of how close they were, because Jack could feel Mark's body pressed up to his, or because Jack _noticed_ those details. Yet, the green-haired teen couldn't stop staring. Mark was close enough that Jack didn't even have to lean too much to kiss him, and... Jack could literally _kiss_ him. The boy was giving a grin that suddenly made his heart ache, with the way his teeth flashed and his brown eyes crinkled up, and with Jack staring, it would seriously look like Jack wanted to kiss Mark. But Jack didn't want to kiss Mark.

Because Mark is _carrying_ him. And _smiling_. And Jack never wanted to hit someone as much as Jack wanted to hit him.

Mark looked to him, and said, “I already told you that I wouldn't let you escape anymore.”

_Oh, god, that doesn't help at all with me trying not to punch this guy. All he has is cheesy one-liners!_

Jack turned even more red from being lifted like a fucking sack of potatoes, and looked to the side in embarrassment. Mark began walking towards the car, and Jack whined to put him down. Mark leaned closer, effectively pushing Jack against the car and opened the door. Mark pulled it open and set Jack inside before shutting the door without a word.

Jack stared wide-eyed as he shivered. The car was _so_ much warmer than outside. He looked out the window, and before he could open the door to escape, Mark was coming in, dripping water and brushing his hair back.

“Mark, you really don't have to. I'm gonna ruin your seats and this is a _really_ nice car and I have mud on my shoes and my house isn't that far of a walk, anyways, and it doesn't matter if I get sick, and-and, oh _fuck_ , my mom’s gonna murder me.”

Mark began driving, raising an eyebrow, “Why?”

“Because I’m wet,” he sighed, shivering. He looked to the other to try to find any signs of discomfort or annoyance, but so far, Mark only looked a bit disturbed—and if Jack didn't know any better, he could have said he looked a bit worried. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Why did you leave anyways?”

Jack shrugged. “I thought you had better things to do.” He wrapped his arms around himself, biting his lips and looking away.

“What would I have better to do than to talk to you?” Mark asked, and Jack was about to respond before the other continued, “Okay, well, tell your ‘ _ma_ ’ you're coming home even later now,” Mark said, making a U-turn.

Jack furrowed his brows, looking back at the road they had driven on as if it was going to disappear. “Wait, what? Where are we going?”

“You need to warm up,” Mark said simply.

Jack snorted, “I better not start hearing crappy porn music now.”

Mark laughed heartily—and Jack wasn't gonna lie and say he didn't smile a bit from the sound—swerving on the road a bit from it, “Turn on the radio and we’ll take our chances.”

The Irishman rolled his eyes, “Not doin’ that. But for real, where are we going?” He fidgeted with his bracelets and looked at Mark.

The other man smiled, “My house. You look sick, and you said your mother’s gonna kill you if you walk in all wet. Plus, I told her I would take care of you. So I am.”

“I—I don't need to be taken care of,” Jack defended, frowning.

Mark simply smiled as if he _wasn't_ triggering a few of Jack’s buttons. He said calmly, “But I _want_ to take care of you.”

Jack rolled his eyes at that, weighing his options between jumping out the car and staying.

Both choices were equally as terrifying.


	4. Pity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pit·y  
> /ˈpidē/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. the feeling of sorrow and compassion caused by the suffering and misfortunes of others.
> 
> 2\. a cause for regret or disappointment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An entire 12 hrs earlier, eh? Surprising.  
> Okay so explanation in 3 sentences  
> Mon-Thurs: phone wouldn't even turn on, no matter what I did, couldn't take it to get fixed because I had homework and no money  
> Fri: got it fixed, thought it was too late  
> Sat-Mon: added 2,000 words to chapter and about 5,000 into writing ahead.

Mark had pulled into the same two-story home Jack had recognized since they were younger. There were no other cars in the driveway other than Mark’s, so Jack suspected no one was home.

Jack was rushed inside to get away from the cold rain, finding the same living room that had always been there. The same, old couch that he used to sit on and that held some of the most intense video game matches he ever had was still there. Jack smiled slightly at the memory, his worries melting away when he remembered how Mark and him, and—more often than not—Bob, Wade and Felix as well, used to sit there for hours, staring at a screen without any cares in the world. Even through all the years, the couch was still there and the TV hadn't moved an inch. It was like nothing had changed, except that was a complete lie.

“You know where my room’s at, right?” Mark asked as he shut the door behind him. Jack nodded, about to comment on how they hadn't redecorated their living room when a voice cut in.

“Mark?” someone called from upstairs, and Jack raised an eyebrow.

Jack was sure he hadn't seen any cars outside, so Mark’s mom would have been at work or running an errand. But Mark had an older brother, right? The younger of the two high schoolers voiced his concern, “I thought Thomas would have moved out by now? I thought he would want to get away from you as soon as possible.”

Mark smiled beside him, as if the comment was an inside joke and Jack just didn't get it, “Nah. He loves us too much for that.”

“Mark, who are you leading to your room? I swear if you got a girlfriend after I told you not to get any this year, I will kick her out,” a voice shouted unabashedly, and Jack heard footsteps stomp to the railing. “Alright, you got thirty seconds before I——uh, wait… who’s this?” Thomas’s head peeked from the top of the stairs, holding a baseball bat.

Mark scoffed, “Why were you carrying a bat?”

Thomas tossed it behind him and it clattered loudly on the floor. “For the girlfriend that I thought you brought.”

“I already agreed. No girlfriends this year. I thought you knew,” Mark explained. He shook his head and grabbed Jack’s arm, then roughly pulled him up the stairs.

“That’s so unfair!” Thomas whined. Mark, sighing, stopped in front of his brother and questioned what he meant. Tom continued, “You can’t just agree to not have a girlfriend then bring home a _boy_ friend.”

Mark sighed exasperatedly, letting Jack’s arm drop limply. He pinched the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “Seriously, dude, when are you gonna move out?”

Thomas grinned at Mark’s irritation, “I’m here forever, sucker!” With that, he walked into his room and shut the door.

Mark groaned, turning to Jack. “I know how you feel now.”

Jack smirked, “And I know the other side, now.” His hair was still dripping, but surprisingly, Mark pushed him further into his room and began looking for something.

Jack looked around the familiar room, which was arranged differently than before. There were a few trophies on shelves, and a lot of pictures of Mark hanging out with his friends on the walls. Jack decided to ignore those. Other than that, the room was littered with clothes and trash, and he had a TV put to the side with a game system plugged into it. On another shelf, he saw dozens of games that he recognized, and he smiled at Mark’s collections.

Mark turned to him and shoved a few clothes his way, then pointed out the door. Jack, confused, gave him a look and Mark explained, “Go change into these in the restroom, and give me those clothes once you’re done. Feel free to use the towels on the rack.”

Jack squared his shoulders instinctively with discomfort, “Uh, wait, dude, no, that’s——"

Mark smiled, gently and it reminded Jack of his mother when she tried to convince him to do a chore for her. “Just go do it. Unless you want me to do it for you.” (Although that sentence was not at all what his mother would say).

Jack laughed nervously and took it without any further refusal. He walked into the restroom and locked the door, then sighed and looked around. Mark surely went really far to keep Jack safe. It was kind of annoying in some way. But in another way, it was kind of endearing.

Jack vowed to never use words to describe how he feels about Mark like that again.

Jack slipped out of his shoes and put them aside, where they left mud on the tiles. Jack reminded himself to pick that up later on. He took off his socks, which were squishy with water, feeling relieved to have taken them off.

The Irishman took off his pants and threw them aside, making a soggy pile on the floor that Jack winced at. His little episode certainly brought him a lot of pain. But, at least his boxers weren't soaked and he slipped on the sweatpants Mark gave him with ease. After tying them tight—Jack certainly wasn't going to say they fit him perfectly—he took his jacket and shirt off and dried his hair without a towel as best as he could. Then, he put on the white shirt Mark had given him, feeling slightly embarrassed to walk around in Mark’s clothes.

So then, as he cleaned up the mess he made, he wondered why Mark was doing this. Was there a secret intention to embarrass or hurt him? What if Mark took a picture of him like this and made fun of him with his friends? Could he actually trust Mark?

Jack decided now wasn't the best time to decide as he was currently standing _in the man’s house._

He seriously broke all his rules this year. But then again, Mark probably did too.

After cleaning up the restroom, he gathered his things and walked outside, looking around before walking back into Mark’s room. Mark was there, now wearing new clothes and scrolling through his phone when he looked up to see Jack.

“Aw, you look like a paler, thinner, and stranger version of me,” Mark joked, sitting up.

Jack rolled his eyes, “Bitch, _please_.”

The American grinned, “Aw, come on, you look adorable! I always thought it would be cute to walk around with a mini version of me.”

It took all of Jack’s willpower not to slap the other right then and there. He settled for a scoff, because a scoff _won't_ get him kicked out of the room. “Sentences like those are exactly why I don't like you.”

“For real?” Mark’s smile returned. “Of all the terrible things about me, you chose my _ego_ to drive you away?”

Jack chuckled, “Maybe. But not _every_ thing about you is terrible. Otherwise I never would have stayed.” The blue-eyed boy sat beside his friend, stressing the importance of the space between them. But Mark didn't seem to register the detail, because he scooted over in curiosity.

“Oh? And what things about me aren't terrible?” Mark practically sang, obviously pressing for an explanation to mess with Jack.

The Irishman played along, though, looking away, scratching his chin, and humming in thought. He belatedly realized he needed to get his hair cut again because his hair was flipping all over his face. But that’s getting off track. What was the question? Jack glanced at Mark, blinking. _Mark had asked something about himself right? And before that we were talking about his ego? And I had said not everything about him is terrible? He probably asked what isn't bad about him. Either that or he changed the topic. Just hope he didn't change the topic._

Jack stared at his friend, scrutinizing the other as if trying to look for details to make up. The blue-eyed boy shrugged nonchalantly, looking away. “I don't know. You got looks. You got talent. You got popularity,” Jack said bitterly as the words he said managed to put a sour taste in his mouth. “You have anything the average teenager would want.” Jack tilted his head at his own explanation, “If you managed to get that, there must be _something_ good about you.”

Mark huffed, “That’s not valuable.”

The man ran a hand through his green hair nervously, shrugging once again. “Fine.” Humming in thought, he looked over Mark to try to find things people might find endearing. But then, Jack realized, _How the fuck would_ I _know what other people like?_

So Jack wondered why he wouldn't push Mark away. He obviously could have, but he didn't. Maybe it was because he knew Mark wouldn't give up so easily. There were things about Mark that Jack found good—the small characteristics most people didn't pay mind to, but to Jack, they made up for all his other actions. Even though it took a while for Mark to find them, he did, and the least Jack could do was give him a chance, right?

Sighing, he shut his eyes tightly to avoid Mark’s reaction at what he was thinking of saying. “I like your perseverance,” Jack began. “It’s admirable, and honestly, I think it suits you. You don't give up so easily. People like that.”

“People as in you?”

Jack opened and rolled his eyes, “Do you _want_ me to continue?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“I like how you learn from mistakes,” Jack looked away and to the ground. “Other people would hit a bump in the road and stop the car, but you would keep driving, just more carefully. You’re kind, and funny, and you’ve certainly got the looks and talent.”

Mark simply chuckled. He leaned in a bit closer. Jack didn't notice. He ducked his head and shut his eyes gently, going over the words in his head before saying them. “And even after all these years…” Jack opened his eyes and looked to Mark again. Mark was staring at him with a bright smile, a gentle expression that made Jack instantly return it. “You’re still the nerd I’ve always known.”

Mark laughed. “Thanks.” It was such a short statement, but somehow it made Jack bashfully lower his head. The way it just rolled off his tongue was almost a relief after revealing so much and blue eyes stayed trained on the floor after the younger asked himself, _Why the fuck is his_ voice _, of all things, managing to make me relax?_

Jack felt something touch at his arm, and he was ripped from his thoughts as he saw Mark’s hand from the corner of his vision. He tensed, head snapping towards Mark in shock. “What?”

The other teenager raised his eyebrows in surprise. “May I take those?”

Jack scrunched up his nose. “Huh?”

“ _These_ ,” Mark pointed and this time, Jack followed. Mark now was gripping the clothes that were sitting on his lap—which Jack realized hadn't been the greatest idea since now Mark’s clothes were a bit wet from the laundry.

“Uh… s-sure.”

Mark grabbed Jack’s things and took them downstairs. Jack followed, and Mark walked into a basement that contained a washing machine and a dryer. Mark put them in the dryer.

“They might be in here for a while,” Mark tossed them in. “For now, you should probably call your mom. I’ll, uh, be in my room.”

Mark hurried back upstairs, leaving Jack alone in the laundry room. He decided to follow the American’s advice and pulled out his phone (which he had transferred from his pants into Mark’s). The phone rang and picked up, with his mom’s voice a quiet tone on the other end. “Jack?”

“Hey, Ma,” Jack greeted. “I’m at Mark’s house right now. Um, some things got in the way and I’m just here for a little bit. Is that okay?”

His mother’s voice said happily, “Ooh! That’s fine dear! Just glad you're okay. Let me hear him! Is he there with you? Are you two in his room?”

“No, mom, I’m not in his room,” he sighed. “And no, you're not gonna hear him, that’s weird.”

“As long as you don’t put him on when you two are having… How do I say it— _fun_ , then no, it’s not weird at all!”

Jack frowned, blushing at the image his mother managed to put in his head, “I—I’m hanging up now.”

“Okay, sweetie! Tell me when you're heading back!” his mother said, and then he heard the click that signalled she had hung up.

Jack exhaled, looking at the dryer and realizing the load wasn't gonna be done while he’s down here. He began heading upstairs and walked into the living room. Trying not to bother his friend by barging into his room, he took his shoes—which were still dirty—and decided to clean the mud off.

As he headed to the bathroom, he walked by Mark’s room, which, strangely, there was no one in. Jack wondered if he was in Tom’s room, then shrugged it off. He walked to the bathroom door and knocked. After hearing no reply, he walked in and shut the door.

Jack rinsed off his shoes and wiped off mud by hand, and by the end, his shoes were clean, albeit wet, but he figured he could deal with that.

Jack heard footsteps out the hall, and heard two voices, presumably arguing, talk outside the restroom door. “—I’m just saying,” Jack recognized as Thomas’s voice. “He’s changed. Hell as if I’m gonna let him change _you_! Why'd you even bring him here?”

Jack looked down, faltering in his movements to step outside. He stood by the door, waiting for someone to respond.

“What’s happened to you, Tom? You used to love when Jack came by! What’s so different about now?” Mark’s voice said. Not exactly defending Jack, he noticed, but Jack didn't want to delve into that.

“ _He’s_ different, if you haven't fucking noticed, Mark! I mean just look at him! With the clothes and the fucking hair, dude! He's a fucking punk,” Tom spat out. “Weren’t you the one to tell me that he didn't have any fucking friends?”

Jack winced. People really did see him as a loser wherever he went, huh?

“Tom, how the fuck would you feel if your closest friends just left you, huh?” Mark told him. Jack should have appreciated the thought, but he didn't think Mark would take it. Since his next sentence was: “The only reason he doesn't have friends is because of me!”

“Because you stopped talking to him? That doesn't make sense, and you fucking know it. You couldn't have hurt him so bad. He didn't have to depend on you. And he clearly doesn't! And you're obviously doing this out of guilt, Mark! And if he ends up manipulating you because you feel bad or something, don't come crying to me!”

Jack heard stomping and a door slam shut, punctuation a perfect ending to an argument that shouldn't happen again. Because Jack was the one doing this. Jack caused all of it. If it weren't for him, Mark wouldn't be fighting with anyone. If it weren't for him, Mark wouldn't pity him.

And God, how could he be so stupid to just forgive him? Mark never _liked_ him. He just felt bad for him. How did Jack not see that earlier?! It was so obvious, with how he always tried to make him happy, or whatever he was doing, and it made perfect sense compared to the idea of Mark actually _choosing_ to hang out with him.

Something twisted painfully in Jack’s stomach. He felt so stupid to think anything otherwise because it was just _so_ obvious. No one liked him for who he was… They just felt bad for him. Mark wasn't any different.

Jack felt terrible, his chest felt tight and the acid in his stomach felt as if it was going burn right through his body. He felt like throwing up, and this time he couldn't blame it on a sickness. Jack had to get out of there, and quick.

Still feeling nauseous, Jack opened the door, now finding an empty hallway. He made his way to their laundry room and found his clothes dry. His dry clothes in hand, he ran back upstairs and to the restroom, finding Mark looking concerned in front of the door.

“Jack, are you okay?” the other man asked. Jack simply nodded and pushed him aside, locking the door and changing quickly.

Within three minutes, he was back out, shoving clothes into Mark’s hand and saying determinedly, “Take me home.” Mark looked ready to object, but Jack cut him off with an icy glare. “Now.”

Mark’s eyes widened, and he nodded, yet still reluctant as he grabbed his keys from his dresser and jogged downstairs. Jack was already waiting at the door.

Mark opened the door to find the rain still heavily falling, but Mark grabbed an umbrella and opened it.

Jack stepped under, his body tense with something he wanted to say was anger. But he knew it wasn't. He knew this feeling, he felt embarrassed, and all Jack wanted to do was end it already. Mark simply walked him to the car, and as soon as Jack knew it, they were driving back to his house. He stared out the window to avoid looking at Mark directly.

“Are you okay?” Mark questioned beside him after several, long minutes of silence.

“Stop asking,” Jack gritted between his teeth, and he wanted nothing more than to yell at Mark to shut the fuck up. Instead of his outburst, though, he glared out the window, his leg bouncing in his overwhelming urge to yell or punch or kick or _whatever_ would distract him from how stupid he felt.

“Please, Jack,” Mark furrowed his brows in worry, but that didn't fool him. “What did I do wrong?”

Jack smiled coldly, “No, Mark. You didn't _do_ anything. In fact, it wasn't you who did anything wrong. Ever. You're fine. Don't beat yourself up over it. I did something wrong. Okay? Just know that.”

“What?” Mark said, clearly confused. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing, okay?” Jack spat, anger boiling in his chest. “Just shut up.”

Mark frowned, looking forward to the road and sped faster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not their big fight, because, hehe... Their fight is going to be a lot more (insert anticlimactic word here)  
> P.S. watched the video _In a Heartbeat_... Soo cute :DD


	5. Risk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> risk  
> /risk/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. a situation involving exposure to danger.
> 
> _verb_  
>  1\. expose (someone or something valued) to danger, harm, or loss.  
>  _synonyms_ : endanger, imperil, jeopardize, hazard, gamble, gamble with, chance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, I changed stuff.  
> And I'm writing stuff.  
> And I'm getting stuff at home.  
> Yeah... Stuff.  
> I'll be updating stuff as frequently as I can.  
> here, a gift to you from me with a note: Life. Sucks. Ass.

When Jack had gotten home, his mother instantly noticed something was wrong. Mark hadn't spoken to him as he walked him to his door. Jack didn't say thanks. He didn't say goodbye. He just walked upstairs without facing his mother and hoped she wouldn't tell Mark anything. He hoped Mark just left. Thankfully, something right happened for once, and Jack saw Mark’s car driving out.

There was a knock on his door he ignored. After a few seconds of the incessant banging, he groaned in response, hoping whoever was there would get the message that he didn't want to talk. Surprisingly, his mother wasn't at the door, and his father walked in silently. Jack sat up on the bed, his dad joining him beside him. It's better to get it over with through a few white lies.

“What’s wrong?” his father asked, and Jack focused on his rumpled bed sheets. He picked at the folds in shame of having to talk to his father.

After a few seconds of mulling over the question, he shook his head, “Nothing, dad. Everything’s fine.”

“You and I both know there's something wrong, because you're doing that thing where you don't look at me,” his father said stubbornly. Now he knew where he got _his_ stubbornness from.

Jack rolled his eyes, looking at his father, “Nothing’s wrong, dad.”

His father rolled _his_ eyes, “Well now you're only doing it because I told you about it.”

Jack smiled wearily, “I promise it’s fine.”

“Was it Mark?” his father asked. Jack was surprised his mother had already told him about Mark. His shock didn't last very long, since his father began talking as soon as he stopped. “Because if it’s Mark then I wanna know what happened.”

“I… Wait, why?” Jack asked, furrowing his brows in puzzlement.

“Your mother and I will be discussing him further in the future. Now, stop changing subjects and tell me what’s wrong.”

The teenager sighed, there was no way he can lie out of this one, “His friendship wasn't true.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“No,” Jack abused his bottom lip, thinking. “It’s just, I know he only wants to hang out with me because he feels bad about how he ignored me through high school. I know he doesn't actually _like_ me. He just pities me.” The words began flowing out when he began. He continued honestly, “And I knew this would happen. That one day he'll realize he's had enough of me and leave me again. But… He's basically my only ‘friend,’ or whatever I can call him. But I know I'm not _his_. I’m worried he’s going to leave.” To be completely honest, he wasn't worried. He had seen this coming. But now that it was happening…

His father nodded solemnly, then cleared his throat. “Do you enjoy spending time with him, Sean?”

Jack looked to his hands nervously, not sure how to respond to that. Of course, they don't talk as often as they used to talk, but Mark does spend an awful amount of time with him sometimes. And during those times, Jack’s kind of happy. Then he feels anxious _because_ he's feeling happy. And then he feels confused and annoyed and upset. Basically, Mark causes some mixed emotions. Jack knows why, but he can't really stop it. Jack hates it. The lack of control over his emotions is nothing but frustrating, and trying to analyze the situation—like he always does—is only making it worse.

But whenever Mark and him just stand together—which does happen, but not as often as Jack would like—not saying a word and just basking in the silence, Jack feels… At peace? It would be the days Jack was just pissed from having to argue with Gabriel, or when a teacher kept calling out on him and no one else (when clearly other people were doing worse), that Jack would find Mark standing there, looking almost nothing like formerly talkative self. He would simply glance at him, and Jack would shove a cigarette his way. They would stand there, probably at the closest distance Jack would ever permit, and it was as if troubles like the cold or Jack's rivalries were nothing but a mere nightmare. It was those cliché comfortable silences that you usually see in movies and read in books, but somehow it had managed to snake its way into Jack’s life. He was really grateful for those because that was as close to happiness as he could get.

Jack nodded, hoping he was saying the correct response, “I guess I do?”

“And do you _like_ him?”

“Like as in?…”

“Like as in like him, as a friend.”

“I… guess?” he said, brows furrowed together as he looked away from his father’s gaze, surprised he would even say something like that.

“Then take a risk. Because high school isn't gonna last forever, and one day, you're gonna end up regretting all the things you didn't do, rather than regretting the ones you did do. It’s your choice whether to continue to talk to Mark or not, and the window is closing, Jack.”

Jack blinked at those words. He always knew his father was into metaphors and shit, but Jack never thought he would use it when he was giving _advice_. Jack shook his head, about to tell his dad about how confusing that was, when his dad spoke first.

“Well, anyways, I think it’s time for me to tell your mother about this… And, no doubt she's either eavesdropping or trying to talk to Mark’s mother.”

“Mark’s mother?”

“Yep. Your mother and his mother have had a lot of discussions over the years about you two. Just because you two didn't talk, didn't mean they didn't have to,” his father smiled, standing up. “Good night, Jack.”

_It’s barely six, what the fuck, dad?_

“Good… night?…”

**{…}**

Jack opened his eyes slowly, his body painfully betraying him as he tried to move. His mouth was dry and his stomach hurt. It was as if the acid was trying to burn through him and crawl up his throat at the same time. Why did Jack keep getting sick?

All of a sudden, Jack realized he wasn't moving in the dark. There was light streaming in through his window, decorating his already flushed face. Jack wondered if he had slept in through his alarm. Confused, he pushed away the covers to reveal jeans and his jacket. Did Jack not change into his sleeping clothes yesterday? No, he remembered changing into sweatpants. He decided to look and find his phone.

His alarm had been dismissed. The clock read 11:05 AM. Curious, he made his way downstairs, wondering if his parents were around.

Stumbling into the living room, he found his mom watching TV. His mother gave him a smile, “Feeling okay, sweetie?”

Jack nodded, his mind still racing to find an explanation for why he was at home when he _should_ be at school.

“You’re sick, Jack. We already called in the school and told them that you're staying home today. You threw up in the morning.”

Jack shook his head, not remembering that. His voice came out scratchy from misuse, “I threw up?”

“Yep. Saying complete crap about how you had to go to school, then we had to put you to bed before you collapsed,” his mother explained. “I hope you're feeling okay.”

He nodded. Although he couldn't compare himself to how he felt before, he didn't feel _that_ bad. He shrugged and went back upstairs and fell back to sleep. Hell as if he wasn't going to take advantage of his free day.

**{…}**

It was a while later when he heard someone knocking on the front door. Jack tossed his sheets around before getting up slowly, then made his way downstairs to find that his mom was gone. A note was on the kitchen and Jack ignored the knocks in favor of picking it up. He read it on the way there.

_Jack,_  
_I'm going to the pharmacy to pick up some medicine for you. I hope you're feeling well. If you need anything, just call me and I’ll head right back!_  
_Love,_  
_Mom_

Jack stuffed the note into his pocket, finding himself in front of the door. The knocks still wouldn't end, and he groaned at the persistence of whoever was there. Jack frowned. He swung the door open and stood in shock.

“Mark?” Jack asked, wide-eyed. He quickly tensed, glaring, “What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be in class?”

Unless Jack was so sick he was hallucinating, it was true. As confusing for Jack's already muddled brain to realize it, the jock was standing on his doorstep, wearing a letterman jacket and regular pants. But strangely he wore glasses instead of wearing contacts, but Jack just didn't have it in him to ask. 

Mark shook his head, “Right now, I have lunch. But… I had a weird day, though. At first, during homeroom, I saw you weren't there, and I suspected you skipped or were late. But when I didn't see you in photography class, I thought you were avoiding me.” Jack was about to interrupt, but Mark spoke too quickly to intervene. Instead, Jack narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “So at lunch, when I still didn't see you, I started asking people literally _everywhere_ if they had seen you. Twenty people thought I was kidding, and only one girl managed to tell me you were absent,” Mark ran a hand through his hair, “and I had even asked Felix and Bob and Wade. And they all asked, ‘Jack still goes here?’ I told them, ‘Well, duh. Where the fuck have you been to not notice that?’ And then they got mad at me because I called them annoying, inconsiderate losers, and I almost got in a fight with Felix. I guess after that, I ditched school and headed over here.”

“Woah, what?” Jack asked incredulously, the words passing by before he could process them. “You should be in school, dude. You're gonna get in trouble again.”

Mark waved it off, panting and shaking his head. “I’m gonna head back anyways. I just need you.”

Jack scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Why the hell would _you_ need _me_ for?”

Mark’s lip twitched upwards, and if Jack wasn't still feeling incredibly stupid, he would have commented on how cute it looked. Mark said quietly, “You promised that you would go to homecoming.”

Jack sighed, looking to his feet. “Well, maybe I don't want to keep that promise anymore.”

Mark seemed to sadden at the reply, and Jack regretted even opening his mouth in the first place. Then he realized he shouldn't regret what he said; he meant it. Why was Mark even there?

“Jack,” Mark said, and the younger tried not to notice the way he said his name caused his stomach to flip over. “I also came to apologize,” Mark was looking down now, his shoulders slumping along with his frown. “I’m sorry. I know you must have heard from yesterday’s argument between me and Tom. I promise you that none of what you heard about me was true. I don't spend time with you because I feel bad for you. I like spending time with someone I can be myself around. I missed when we used to hang out when we were younger, and I just really want to bring that back. Before it's too late.”

Jack furrowed his brow. He didn't know whether to believe Mark or not. But Mark was trustworthy, right? If he had wanted to betray Jack before, he could have already done it. But he hadn't. So what does that make him?

“So, Jack,” Mark looked up and stared into Jack’s eyes, his brown eyes holding his in place as the color shocked him. His eyes were just so warm. Inviting. Coaxing him to say things he doesn't want to. “Will you go to homecoming with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, my bro Ozzie died. (Not for realsies, I meant Ozzie from People of Earth)  
> :( man shipping hurts. Especially nowadays. My ships aren't sailing for shit.  
> But whateves. No matter how much it hurts, I can't leave. It's a FUCKIN' DRUG.  
> and this was a mindless note. You're welcome. Bye.


	6. Equal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> e·qual  
> /ˈēkwəl/  
>  _noun_  
>  1\. a person or thing considered to be the same as another in status or quality.
> 
>  _adjective_  
>  1\. having the ability or resources to meet (a challenge).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um, enjoy. Lmao I suck

Jack ruffled his hand through his hair nervously as he debated on going through with this or not. He could always wuss out; call Mark and tell him he changed his mind or just lie and say he’s sick. There were so many ways this night could go wrong, and Jack wasn't sure if he could take it.

Before Jack could decide, there was a knocking from downstairs that broke his thoughts. He heard his parents yell his name, and broke into a sprint down the stairs. He passed his dad—who he didn't have to look at to know was grinning—as he yelled for the person he knew was at the door to shut up.

“Aw, my baby is going to a homecoming dance! How adorable!” Jack heard his mother yell out as practically jumped over his couch.

“Coming!” he yelled, running towards the front door. The knocking wouldn't stop, and he yelled louder, “I’m _comin_ ’, god!”

Jack opened the door, and gave a wavering smile to Mark. Mark wore his, frankly stupid, jacket with pants and dress shoes, and Jack wore skinny black pants with a plain black shirt under a jacket—courtesy of both Mark’s and his parents’ whining to wear something _without_ tears. Mark looked Jack over and grinned happily, “Ready?”

The truth was, Jack was nervous as all fuck. He was still uneasy around Mark, and he knew it wasn't safe to openly hang out with him. Especially in a public event like a _dance_ , where everyone was desperately trying to look nice and all wanted to talk to the most popular boy in school. Jack was bound to get in trouble, whether it was with Mark or not. Despite his anxieties, though, Jack wanted to take his dad’s advice to heart. He had a eureka moment with the metaphors, and thought it would be best to give Mark a chance. Jack was just being stubborn, and everyone deserves a second chance, right?

“I guess,” Jack shrugged, and was about to walk out when he was stopped by his mother. He turned to her and found a camera pointed at his face.

Jack blushed; he never really liked taking pictures of himself. He covered himself with his hands and his mother whined, momentarily putting down the camera, “Come on, Jackie!”

“Ma!” he stressed, blushing even redder at his mother’s nickname, and still refusing to show himself.

Mark chuckled, “Yeah, _Jackie_ , smile wide!”

Jack felt hands grab at his arm and pry them away from him, and, shocked, he looked to Mark, who was laughing and holding his wrists in his hands. A flash went off beside him, and he huffed at his failed attempt to avoid the camera.

“Bastard,” Sean cursed lowly and stuck his tongue out at Mark. Mark simply returned the favor.

“Okay, now be safe, Sean!” his mother said, grinning. “If you need to be picked up for some reason, just call us.”

Jack rolled his eyes, “Okay, mom.”

“Goodbye, Mr. and Mrs. McLoughlin,” Mark said, pulling Jack along to his car. He opened the door for him and Jack laughed. “For _you_ , Madame,” Mark smiled as he held the car door open.

Jack chuckled, “Such a gentleman.” He made his way inside and watched Mark blow him a kiss from through the window. Jack simply laughed and gave him the middle finger.

Soon, Mark climbed into the driver’s seat, driving out to the school. Jack looked out the window, toying with his jacket’s sleeve as thoughts raced through his head.

“Did you watch me play?”

Jack blinked at the random question. “Well, I was there, wasn't I?” Jack nodded, then smiled slightly, “You really sucked.”

Mark chuckled, “Aw, well, that’s really nice to hear coming from you.”

“I’m just kiddin’, Mark,” Jack grinned over at him. “You actually did really good. You managed to help score a few points, right?”

“Well, yeah, but sometimes Ethan really kept fucking up,” Mark complained, “sometimes he——” Mark glanced to him as Jack raised an eyebrow. The jock cleared his throat. “But I think he did better than usual. We won anyways. Whatever. Sorry.”

“Ha-ha, no, no… it’s fine. Rant all ya want,” Jack said, chuckling. “I don't judge if you want to judge.”

Mark gave him a flattered smile, glancing towards Jack. “Thanks.”

After a few minutes of silence, Mark had pulled into the school, where they were let through the front gates with ease and able to park without much hassle. Mark shut off the car as Jack stayed in his seat, his heart thrumming with anxiety. He hadn't been to any type of school event in awhile, other than the football game he had attended only a few hours earlier, and that had gone fairly well. All he did was stand to the side and watch Mark play (not in the weird way). Mark had even _seen_ him, hanging beside the bleachers—not necessarily _in_ them because A) that's gay; B) Mark wouldn't be looking for _him_ in the bleachers; C) that’s _so_ gay; and D) why would Jack sit there, with all those people who would just want him out? Which brought him to _this_ problem.

Although it shouldn't nerve him to just hang around school voluntarily, it did, and he didn't manage to push down the negative scenarios running through his head.

“Ready?” Mark said patiently beside him.

The younger one shook his head honestly. “I… Don't know.” His hands ran through his hair nervously, looking out the front window as he imagined walking around with everyone staring at him. Usually, he could have ignored it, but Jack just couldn't handle it anymore. He was weak. He gripped at his hair, pulling it at the thought of breaking down in front of people who wouldn't do anything but laugh.

Something pulled his arm away from his hair gently, then a hand ran down his arm and grabbed his own. Jack looked to Mark, who was giving him an encouraging smile that melted Jack’s heart, turning its beats irregular before stopping it completely. _Mark’s hand is warm._

“Jack, it’s gonna be okay. Trust me. If you don't like it, you can always go to the restroom o—or go outside. Smoke a little. You brought your cigarettes, right?—" Jack nodded, Mark continued, “—Right. Or you could go back in the car. Ask me to take you home. Even call your mom, if you don't want me to. You don't have to stay forever just because I want you to.”

Jack nodded, pausing to reconsider his options. Mark was right. If he didn't like it, he could always bail.

“Plus, someone _did_ bring alcohol. I think it’s Cry? I think he's selling a bit behind teachers’ backs. We can always buy some,” Mark smirked. “And _everything's_ easier with a bit of alcohol.”

Jack chuckled, giving Mark’s hand a squeeze before taking it away. “Alright then. Dibs on the first drink.”

Mark and Jack walked through the crisp night air, wondering how the night would be like. They walked into the front doors, heading down the hall and into the gym silently.

Their gym was pretty big. It was the typical basketball court, with a few bleachers that they pulled aside for the dance. There was a stage that technically ruined the name “gym" and now people called it a “multipurpose room.” For now, the space was decorated with lights and streamers, and sophomores, juniors, and seniors filled the room and made the air smell like sweat and feel like heat packed into an oven. Teachers lingered among possibly intoxicated students as “high school appropriate" music rang out through the building.

Jack looked around, eyes wide as the loudness of the music became audible, and turned to look to Mark. Mark opened his mouth, but whatever he had wanted to say was cut off when a girl ran over to him.

“Hey!” a pretty, blonde girl he recognized as Amy grinned at the jock. Jack frowned slightly at seeing Amy, who he guessed snuck into the dance. “Dude, Cry is awesome! The teachers here don't suspect _shit_.”

Mark smiled politely to her, “Are you drunk already, Amy?”

The girl scoffed, her face clearly flushed from alcohol, “No! Anyways, uh, let's go——" she bumped into Jack, who had watched the others’ interactions the entire time. Her face twisted into embarrassment, then disdain, “Sorry, my bad,” a frown on her lips. “Uh, Mark, I gotta tell Ethan and Tyler you're here. I’ll be right back.” She then turned and placed a kiss on Mark’s cheek, Mark scrunching his nose up as she did. Then, she smirked, turned and began waltzing away drunkenly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, “She snuck in?”

Mark shrugged uninterestedly, grabbing Jack’s hand and pulling him further into the crowd. Jack was pushed and shoved along as he tried not to slip away from his friend.

After ages of moving between clumps of humans, Mark stopped in front of a guy Jack recognized only as Cry. He never really talked to him, though he knew the man’s real name and he knew Cry knew his. Neither called the other by their real name. Other than that, all Jack knew is that he was close friends with Felix, and he came to the school in the middle of freshman year. “Hey, Cry,” Mark greeted, and Cry gave the popular kid a smile.

“What’s up, Mark?” Cry glanced to Jack and smirked, “Jack.” He looked down at Mark and Jack’s joined hands and widened his eyes. Presumably shocked, he then stuttered, “Uh. What do you guys need?”

Jack let Mark’s hand go as he realized they were still linked together, and Mark did the same. Jack coughed uncomfortably for Mark to respond after an awkward silence ensued. “Do you still have some drinks?” Mark asked nonchalantly, smiling, but Jack saw the tension in his eyes.

“Yeah, although I'm about to run out of beer, guys. But, for you two, I’ll give you some gin instead,” Cry said. He coughed, “It’s not free, just saying.”

Jack asked, “Well how much is it?”

“30 bucks for two,” Cry said, holding out his hands.

Jack nodded, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a twenty. Mark pulled a ten out of a wallet, looking to Jack for confirmation. Jack nodded and took his ten, then handed it to Cry. Cry grinned and snatched the bills out of his hand, then turned around and reached into a bag Jack hadn't noticed.

“You guys are lucky. I gave everyone else beers, and you guys get gin for the same price. But if you guys _dare_ rat me out, I’ll fucking kill you. Now, two tips, drink it all in the restroom or outside, and if not, then pour it into the punch and drink it periodically,” he gave a crooked smile as he handed them two small-ish flasks, and Jack was glad he had thick pockets, “now get the fuck out of here.”

With that, he followed Mark away, and eventually they found their way against the wall. They both leaned on it, and Jack looked at all the students dancing like complete idiots.

“There’s no teachers around here, I think. Wanna drink some?” Mark asked beside him, and Jack was surprised he was able to hear him over all the loud noise.

Jack scoffed at Mark’s question, “Yeah, but cover me.”

Mark nodded and stood up straight. He made his way in front of Jack, leaning slightly too close as Jack fumbled to take out his flask and take a drink. The gin burned his throat and made his head spin, but soon he was halfway done and he capped it back. Jack glanced to Mark, who was looking away, and Jack asked, “You wanna drink?”

“Sure. Hold up, maybe people won't see me if I'm—right… here——" Mark reached into his pocket and took off the cap of his flask, then placed it on his lips. Jack watched as Mark drank determinedly, then glanced down as the man’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat. Jack tried not to breathe too loud; he tried not to lean too close; and he tried not to look too much into what could be considered crossing the line in friendship.

Jack was still staring when he heard someone yell loudly. Panicked, Mark jumped up, closing his flask and shoving it Jack’s way as he turned around. The green-haired man stuffed the alcohol in his pocket, glancing over Mark’s shoulder.

Jogging over Mark’s way were Ethan and Tyler. Jack could tell with the way Mark brightened at seeing them that he should probably… stand back.

“Mark! Hey, uh—who’s this?” Ethan tilted his head with the question, as if Jack was a foreign object and not just a stranger.

Mark glanced to him, then grabbed his arm and pulled Jack forward, “This is Jack. He goes here, remember?” Jack stumbled forward and waved, although all he wanted to do was leave because both Tyler and Ethan were managing to annoy him. Jack didn't know why, but maybe it was the way they focused their attention—specifically how they clearly didn't want to talk to Jack.

“Oh, so _this_ is Jack?” Ethan said, probably surprised the punk he had seen in the halls even had a name. He gave a small smile, “Well, what’s up Jack? You probably hear about me a lot, if you've been talking to Mark often. I’m Ethan.”

“Ethan? Never heard of you before in my life, but, nice meeting you,” Jack point-blanked, revelling in Mark’s reaction of a smile—though Jack couldn't tell if it was real or a nervous one—and how Ethan’s smile turned fake in an instant. Even Tyler gave a look of shock, but Jack simply shrugged it off. “Kidding. Just in case you can't tell.” Jack gave a grin, challenging Ethan to just _try_ him.

Ethan’s smile was still fake, giving a laugh that sounded forced as _hell_. “Funny,” the man gritted between his teeth. “Anyways. Mark.” He looked to Mark, the smile fading. “Um, I heard people were picking you for homecoming king. And, that girl… I forgot her name. The one in your homeroom that does cheer?”

Mark tilted his head, “Janice?”

“Yeah, her! People say she has a huge fucking crush on you,” Ethan continued, “I’m guessing people want to see you two get together now, since they're picking you two.”

Mark nodded, and Jack noticed how he didn't look so bright anymore. Tyler tugged Ethan away, Mark simply waving goodbye. When the pair were out of earshot, Jack turned to Mark. “You make it so obvious.”

Mark glanced to him, “Huh?” He held out his hand and Jack handed him his flask before responding.

“That you _really_ don't want to date her.”

The other took a swig before shoving it in his pocket, shrugging. “I just don't want to do anything _just because_ other people think it'll look good. Plus, I _really_ don't like her that way.”

The green-haired boy nodded in agreement, shrugging slightly. After a pause, he stated, “I’m getting kind of bored.”

“What?” Mark asked in surprise. “We’ve only been here for, like, 30 minutes.”

“Yeah, and I was starting to get bored after just 5 minutes,” Jack shifted. “How can anyone enjoy this shit?”

Mark hummed an _I-dunno_ , looking over to the massive crowd of teenagers. “Everyone has a different reason they’re here for,” Mark exclaimed loudly over the music. He turned his head to face the crowd, then his eyes landed on someone. He pointed, “See, like that guy?” Jack followed his gesture to a senior in their grade—some guy he only knew as the guy who had tried to kill himself (because rumors only highlight the things you don't want them to). He watched the guy grin wildly and take a sip from a cup. “He’s probably here for the alcohol.”

Jack grinned at that, but his smile quickly faded when he saw the guy pull in another person by their shirt for a kiss. Instead he stood slack-jawed at the intense makeout session that they managed to catch, Mark muttering an _Oh shit_ underneath his breath. Jack blinked twice, a bit bewildered, but he managed to respond, “Or… He came to have a… Fun, alcohol-induced time…” He couldn't look away for some reason.

Mark fell out of his stupor, grinning softly. “Totally. The guy’s getting more action than some of the _other guys_ here.”

Jack nodded, “I see what you mean.” He nudged to another guy, who was drunk enough to be grinding up on a girl, but the girl shoved him away. “Don’t these people know boundaries?”

“Oh, _yeah!_ I bet you ten bucks that girl came in a group.”

“I’ll bet you, because she looks like she came with a friend or a guy.”

“Nuh-uh! She’s wearing a shit-load of makeup,” Mark defended, “she’s single and part of a group!”

“Her mascara is ruined; she’s clearly impatient and upset. Her friend or boyfriend probably got her mad. And did you see how hard she shoved that guy away? That’s the work of a taken woman.”

Mark rolled his eyes, “Clearly, you don't know a single girl when you see her.”

“Says the guy that can't tell the difference.”

“Ten bucks,” Mark glared, now looking at him.

“Twenty,” Jack narrowed his eyes. “Deal?”

“Deal.” Mark held out his hand. Jack smirked and gripped the other’s hold, firmly shaking it. Mark did the same.

“So… When’s your birthday, Mark?” Jack grinned in confidence, squeezing his hand even tighter, “anything worth twenty dollars in mind?”

“No, you don't have to buy me anything,” the brown-eyed boy returned the favor. “Anything worth twenty bucks is something I can buy, especially after today.”

Jack rolled his eyes, finally letting his grip go. He saw the girl walking and let his eyes go wide. “She’s walking, she’s walking!”

Mark let his hand go and turned around to see the girl from earlier heading out of the restroom. She made her way to the punch bowl.

“And she’s gonna go to her group of single friends next, watch,” Mark insisted, and Jack had a small thought that they must look _incredibly_ creepy if they were staring.

“No, she’s gonna go to her friend or her boy——”

“Shh! Watch!”

Jack rolled his eyes but obliged, watching the girl take a sip of her drink, then continue walking to a clump of people in a corner. Jack huffed as Mark boasted, then he shoved a hand into his pocket and pulled out a 20 dollar bill. He held it out for Mark.

“Here, you win,” Jack said bitterly.

“Nah, you don't have to. Keep it.”

“But you won. I hate not keeping my end of the bet.”

Mark shrugged, “Just keep your money.” He pointed to the girl again, noticing how she walked away from them and stood by herself. “Neither of us win.”

“Jesus…” Jack murmured, “I guess she’s not having fun.”

Mark nodded, “Hope she’s okay.”

Jack looked around, looking for an interesting picture to narrate. He stopped on a guy, wearing pants and a long sleeve shirt. He was staring at the girl before him as if she was water in a desert. Jack yelled, “That guy looks like he’s thinking,” the music abruptly stopped. “ _I’m gonna fuck you so hard to…_ ” Jack whispered in shock, “ _night…_ ”

Mark bursted out in laughter after a few people began started staring at him, and the green-haired teenager blushed. He was about to open his mouth to explain himself when the principal began speaking through a mic on stage. His principal, Mr. Duvall, was a white, tall, and thin man in his mid 30s. He was blonde and had blue eyes, and had used to be a teacher in their school. Strangely, everyone absolutely loved him, whether it was because he was funny, because he wasn't strict, or because he was _extremely_ attractive. Well, that's what the girls said.

Principal Duvall briefly apologized for the music stopping. He reminded his students of homecoming king and queen, and to remember that the dance was to raise money and help with school pride, not for superficial reasons. Sadly, the music began once again while he was in mid-sentence, and everyone lost interest.

“I feel bad for Mr. Duvall,” Mark said, his words coming a bit numbly, once again having to speak loudly over the music. It sounded like his tongue wouldn't move fast enough to keep with his words, “He has to deal with people like us.”

It took a while for the statement to settle in his head. Once it did though, he found himself agreeing instantaneously. “Yeah… We’re a fuckin’ mess of a grade,” Jack nodded in agreement, paused, then smirked at his realization. He was going to see _Mark_ dance with a girl, making a complete fool of himself.

_Wow, that makes coming here so worth it._

Jack (dimly) decided to remind the other of it, smiling, “I just realized I’m gonna get to see you dance.” He grinned as Mark’s expression suddenly turned into one of playful as the older shoved Jack, rolling his eyes with a smile.

“If you wanna see me dance so bad, then how about you come with me?” Mark, smirked as he reached out for Jack’s waist, and Jack rolled his blue eyes, pushing the other away.

“Is that a challenge?” Jack grinned, letting his hand stay flat on the other’s chest, neither pushing or pulling anymore, as Mark tried to pull the other closer.

Mark gave a smile that made Jack’s heart do flips in his chest, but the alcohol in his brain wouldn't question it as it heard Mark speak. “ _Maaaybe_ ,” he wiggled his eyebrows, and Jack snorted at the sight.

“I need a _real_ answer,” Jack looked at Mark in his eyes, ignoring how he purposefully let his push go limp to get just a little bit closer. He then studied Mark’s irises, which was hard to do since Mark wasn't facing a light.

Mark grinned, “Well, _I_ need a real _question_.” The American brought his hand a bit higher on the Irishman’s waist. Suddenly, Jack couldn't hear the music that thrummed behind them. All he could hear was Mark’s deep voice, making vibrations that traveled through his chest and let Jack actually _feel_ the way Mark talked. It was as if Mark was the only thing he could focus on, in a way, because Jack could only faintly distinguish the tremors of the speakers that filled the room with noise he couldn't hear. He didn't and wouldn't _want_ to notice anyone else except the man who was holding him, and this time, it took all of his energy _not_ to question himself.

“Jack?”

Jack always wondered how drunk he would have to be to start seeing everyone as hot, and now he knows; not that drunk. It also took Jack a while to realize he had to respond, but his brain couldn't remember proper responses to answer with, and all that there was in Jack’s perplexed mind was the way Mark’s eyes shined even without light, and how he could feel Mark’s warm breath hit his face. How he smelled the alcohol and cologne coming from Mark, and how Mark actually smelled _good_.

He never noticed Mark was actually really handsome, with the way stubble lined his chin and jaw and even with those glasses, he still looked attractive as all fuck. _With that kind of look, he could be a fucking model… Or a pornstar… Or an actor… Or a pornstar. Most likely a pornstar. Lucky him. Those pay well._

Jack duly noted that if he leaned in just a bit closer, he could see how Mark’s lips part and how soft his puffed lips looked, and how warm Mark’s hand feels like on his back, and… Wasn't he supposed to answer something? Well, Jack just simply couldn't focus enough to do that.

“Mark!” he heard and Jack tensed slightly. What the fuck was he even _doing_? On instinct, Jack pushed Mark away as Mark—who had been staring intently before he heard someone call him out—turned around.

That's when Jack realized the girl who had glared at him a while back in homeroom had been standing there for a while, since when Jack saw her, she looked _extremely_ angry.

“Oh, uh, hey Janice,” Mark said awkwardly, rubbing his hand behind his neck. “What’s up?”

Janice, who made Jack have an _oh, so that’s her name_ moment, smiled strangely, “I just wanted to tell you that you played really well at the game! I thought all your practice really must have payed off, you know?”

Mark nodded, “Yeah, I guess so. Thanks, Janice. That’s really nice of you to say. To be honest, I think I missed a few chances to pass the ball and I didn't run yards as far as I could have.”

Jack tried not to laugh as Janice looked confused at hearing that, and she glared at him for a second before looking back to Mark. “W-well, yeah… Anyways, I also wanted to tell you that I voted for you as homecoming king! I think a lot of people did, but I don't know… Others probably just did it because everyone else was, but I think you really deserve it. Whoever is going to be homecoming queen is gonna be really lucky. Anyways… I’ll see you around cutie!”

Jack watched her walk off, then bursted out in his laughter (but whether he had already been laughing was something a sober person could have told him). “Damn, she _really_ likes you!”

“Ugh, I know. I don't want to make her feel bad by telling her I don't like her,” Mark said, putting his head in his hands.

“Just say you're taken,” Jack suggested, grinning lopsidedly as he tried to focus on Mark and stop the room from spinning. “It works, I swear. Make up some girl’s name and say she's your neighbour.”

Mark nodded, then suddenly grinned brightly. “Maybe my girlfriend’s name is Jackie, eh?”

Jack frowned, sighing and shaking his head, “Shut up.”

“Aw, come on, _Jackie_ , have a little fun!” Mark gave a shit-eating grin that Jack really wanted to wipe off his face.

He was about to punch the other when once again, they were interrupted. “Mark!” a familiar voice called out, and Jack sighed as their time together got cut off again. Not that he cared though.

Both of them looked to find Amy running towards Mark, grinning drunkenly. “Wanna go dance, Markimoo?”

Jack furrowed his brow at the nickname, about to say something about it when Mark spoke. “Uh, sure, Amy.” He looked to Jack. “I'll be right back, alright Jack?”

The blue-eyed teen nodded towards the others, grinning, “Bye, _Markimoo._ ”

Mark glared as Amy dragged him away, and Jack only grinned back. After losing sight of the two, he looked around, then began walking towards the restroom.

Jack pushed the door open, stumbling a bit on his way in, and looked around at the stalls. After noticing the door closed behind him but yet an empty room, Jack took his flask out and chugged a bit down. His throat really hurt after drinking the rest of it in one run, and his head spun once again. He coughed a little, shoving the metal back in his pocket as he looked in the mirror. He frowned a bit as he noticed his messy hair and half-lidded eyes. He looked like the definition of drunk—though people usually say that because he's Irish—and Jack once again wondered: what the hell is he doing again?

Well, literally, he was only in here to take a piss, but figuratively, he was doing something far more worth shaming than using the restroom.

Jack was doing the thing he had avoided doing for so long! It was so stupid, the way he was acting. Just because he had felt weak he instantly had to go find someone to lean on, even though that was what he had been trying _not_ to do all through high school.

The way Jack sees life is as a survival of the fittest. If you show any weakness, you're going to get killed really quickly. That's why you shield yourself from any close ties that make you fragile. That's how it worked. There he was, though, being a fucking idiot and letting himself get even more frail. High school had been a pain in the ass. He never got a break. So when Jack realized he lost all his friends, he decided to just drag himself to the end, no pauses, returns, or winding paths.

But Jack made a huge mistake this year. He had let himself go a different path, but so far, he hasn't been hurt. And now Jack just didn't get it. What was he supposed to do? Continue taking a huge risk or survive?

At the same moment, the door swung open to reveal two familiar figures walking in; Bob and Wade—who were still _very_ tall and _very_ dorky.

“Oh, hey, Jack,” Wade said, drunkenly. He laughed, “You look like a leprechaun in that hair.”

“Shut up, Wade. Jesus,” Bob said beside him. “We’re here to take a piss, not insult people.”

“ _We’re_ here to take a piss?” the thinner of the two said. “You dragged me in here!”

Jack raised an eyebrow, staring at the encounter without saying a word as Bob and Wade began arguing.

“I didn't drag you in here!”

“Who’s the one that said ‘Well, I gotta use the restroom, come on, Bob’?” Wade said, putting his hands on his hips as if he was proving some imaginary point.

“That was _you!_ ” Bob said, sighing. “Wade, you're too drunk for this.”

“No, Wade, _you’re_ too drunk for this!”

Jack chuckled without meaning to, and the two of them looked at Jack with surprise, who was grinning. “Oh god, you guys are still such idiots.”

“No, I think you're talking about Wade here.”

Wade nodded, “Yeah, you probably meant just me.”

Jack laughed a little. “I’ll leave you guys to take a piss, then.”

Bob and Wade moved aside for Jack, who then walked out without a word.

Jack moved around the perimeter of the gym to find Cry again, which he bought another flask of gin from, and then walked back to his spot and found it still empty. Jack looked around for Mark, finding a glimpse of him in the crowd of dancing students.

Right when Jack was about to laugh at Mark’s figure, the music stopped and a light shined at the front to reveal the head of the school, Principal Duvall. “Hello, students. I hope you guys are having a great evening…" The man on stage then sighed impatiently, “Alright, I’m just gonna say what you guys wanna hear. As a team, you all have nominated and voted for this homecoming’s king, queen, prince and princess. Blah, blah, blah. Now, I’m gonna read out this year’s princess nominees. Please step up to the stage if you are one of our three lucky girls.”

Jack watched as another light began shining around the crowd. “Kathleen Preston.” The light stopped on some girl in the middle of the crowd as applause began to fill the room. He heard another name, “Laci Jacobs.” Both girls were shown walking up the stairs, one blonde and another with dyed blue hair. They both were fairly pretty, Jack thought, and Jack saw another girl walk up the stairs. And he sighed. “Olivia Celine.”

The girl from his Photography class climbed up the stage wearing a short dress and, once again, a _lot_ of makeup. Jack hadn't known she was popular. _Oh well._

“Now, remember if you don't win, remember that it’s okay, and that that’s not what matters in an election of your peers. _But._ This year’s homecoming princess is… Olivia Celine.” And Jack, to this day, still swears to god he heard his principal mutter under his breath “For _some_ reason.”

A round of applause was made as Olivia was crowned, and afterwards the two other girls walked off the stage as she stood back.

“Again, step up to the stage if you are one of the lucky guys that are called to be this year’s homecoming prince.” Jack leaned back against the wall, gradually losing interest.

“Cal Sampson.” A buff guy in semi-formal clothing made his way up the steps of the stage, grinning widely at an audience that did nothing but eat it up.

“Bret Dickens.” _Hehe, dickens_ , Jack thought, smiling when a dark-skinned man in nice clothes walked up the steps looking totally wasted.

“And Gabriel Young.”

Cue the spit take.

Jack stood baffled at the scene before him, three juniors lining up onstage alongside a grinning Olivia. Jack’s blood ran cold when he noticed Olivia and Gabriel stood just a bit too close for Jack’s comfort.

“And the homecoming prince is Gabriel Young,” the principal sighed, “ _shocker._ ” Gabriel was crowned as people cheered loudly, and Jack forced himself to not bash his head in the wall. It was pretty surprising he managed to put together a relationship just by having both of them hate him. And Jack knew they weren't dating before they had met him, because couples act different, and they had _not_ acted like a couple on the first day of school. “The homecoming prince and princess will be rewarded a 50 dollar gift card and are allowed, but not _encouraged_ , to dance along with the king and queen under the spotlight dance.”

With that, Gabriel and Olivia went off stage, and Jack was _seriously_ reconsidering not bashing his head in the wall.

“Now, for the more _important_ part, crowning your new king and queen. This year, your king and queen will be rewarded with a 100 dollar gift card and the spotlight dance, along with the invitation to crown next year’s king and queen, although no one ever does that, otherwise I wouldn't be up here. Step up if you are one of the _wonderful_ girls that got picked to be homecoming queen. First up, Hannah Erickson.”

Jack reached in his pocket for his flask, sighing. After today, he might as well have bought all of Cry’s supplies.

“Amy… Nelson? Who the hell is that?”

From inside the crowd, he heard Amy curse loudly as a spotlight landed on her. She frantically ran away from the light following her.

“Oh for fu——Someone catch her! She's not a student and she's managed to get on school grounds!” When no teachers made a move to catch her, his principal sighed in frustration. “You know what? Forget it. It’s not like it’s a hazard to let a stranger wander our halls. Next time don't vote for someone who doesn't attend this school.”

Jack laughed as Amy ran out the door, and as Principal Duvall sighed. “And finally, Janice Smith.”

Only two girls went on stage, both grinning as if they won the lottery. But then again, to them, winning a million bucks would probably be as good as winning homecoming queen (even if it _wasn't_ prom).

“This year’s homecoming queen is…” an extremely long pause, “Janice Smith.”

_Which means Mark is going to be homecoming king. Yipee._

They crowned her and, honestly, she was giving the smuggest smile towards Hannah, and Hannah simply rolled her eyes. Jack tried not to analyze what kind of relationship the two had, but he simply labelled them as rivals.

“And now, to crown our newest homecoming king! Please step up if you hear your name.”

“Tyler Scheid.” _Such a surprise._

“Mark Fischbach.” _I_ never _saw it coming._

“Ethan Nestor.” _Woowee, so diverse!_

The trio all made it up the stage, all looking slightly uncomfortable under the bright lights. They shifted and seemed practically _nervous_ , though Jack suspected they would be used to such attention since people had nominated them for class royalty both years. Maybe it was because they were drunk?

“And your homecoming king is…” a pause to make it sound dramatic. “Mark Fischbach!”

Cheers erupted from the intoxicated students, from girls and boys alike. Jack looked around to notice he was the only one not bothering to clap. Maybe he just didn't belong.

“ _Congratulations to our new king and queen!_ ”

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair as he avoided looking at Mark being treated like a king while he stood in the corner, doing absolutely nothing good with his life.

At some point, Jack had realized he had the chance to be like the people in the crowd. Maybe he even had the chance to be one of the people upstage. But he never took his chance. He put this upon himself. Jack chose to give up trying, when clearly, he was given chances to make friends. He was given chances to not be such an outcast. But he didn't take them. All he did was manage to screw up his friendships, to sit by and mope about losing his friends when all he had to do was make an effort to make new ones. He didn't, because he was scared he would get hurt again. Jack was a fucking coward.

But as he watched Mark get crowned—an uncomfortable look etched his features as he visibly _flinched_ when people cheered for him—Jack realized that wasn't what he wanted either. He didn't want to be treated as if he was the greatest person in the world. He didn't want to be worshiped; he didn't like the idea of being treated as if he had no flaws or imperfections. He didn't want to be the leader of a mass that only seeks to put someone _new_ on their pedestal. Because that way, people wouldn't see him for who he _really_ was. They would want him to be who _they wanted him to be_. He didn't want to be a leader.

But, as he looked to the crowd—cheering as Mark and Janice stood together—he realized he didn't want to be a follower. They were uncreative, seeking trends only to follow and drop them when they were out of style. And Jack knew how it felt to be abandoned.

So what did Jack want?

Jack looked to Mark, who was now looking over the crowd blankly, and tilted his head. Mark then locked eyes with him in the back and smiled, teeth flashing and everything. Jack’s smile returned his without permission, heart speeding up slightly at the picture of Mark in a crown with the biggest grin he’s seen on him.

And Jack realized, maybe _that's_ what Jack wanted.

Jack didn't want someone who saw him as a _better_ or _greater_ person. He didn't want someone who expected to be treated better. He wanted someone he can be himself around, and that wouldn't change just for him. He wanted someone kind, funny, and someone who didn't absolutely hate his guts. Jack wanted a friend.

More specifically, Jack wanted Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'kay, well, it's spring break and I'm editing a lot of shit. While trying to be active on social media. This story hasn't slipped my mind, in fact, I've worked really hard on both this and I'll Keep Them Still, so NO I WILL NOT ABANDON THESE.  
> A lot has happened and I'm not wasting time on checking if this uploads correctly, so that means correct any mistakes you see on the story.


	7. Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kiss  
> /kis/  
>  _verb_  
>  1\. touch with the lips as a sign of love, sexual desire, reverence, or greeting.  
>  _" **he** kissed ~~her~~ **him** on the lips"_  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the night doesn't end yet
> 
> he goes to a dance and doesn't dance there wow

After the coronation, Mark and Janice were scheduled to do a spotlight dance. A few minutes later, Jack was stuck watching Mark and Janice dance under an annoying, blinding light. But that wasn't what was bothering him.

There was a clenching in his stomach as he watched Mark stare into Janice's eyes, swaying back and forth slowly. Jack would have laughed at how fucking sappy it was that they were dancing to a _slow song_ , of all things— _if_ it weren't for the fact that Jack recognized the feeling he felt in his stomach. At first, he suspected it was the alcohol making him want to throw up, and although he still _can_ blame the alcohol, Jack knew better than to blame his drinks on his jealousy.

Jealousy was a strange thing, and it was no stranger to Jack. It had haunted him for months as he watched Mark fade further away from him, and had first appeared to him when he was younger when everyone got the toys he wanted, but never got. (How unfair was that, though?)

Not that he was calling Mark his toy. Or _anyone’s_ toy. It’s just, there was something about how they both looked at each other that made Jack’s chest ache with want and resentment, as if neither of them deserved something _he_ clearly did. Normally, he wouldn't say he was jealous, and he wouldn't _be_ jealous in the first place, but as he watched Janice slip his friend just a _bit_ closer, Jack knew it. He was jealous.

Jealous of what, you might ask? He couldn't quite pin that one down. Maybe it was that they were popular enough to get a spotlight dance? No, those feelings would have come up a long time ago. Maybe it was what they were wearing? No, black was fucking awesome on him, and he would _never_ trade that. Or maybe it was what they were doing? How they were so close, and the way Mark’s hand slips right at the curve of Janice’s back and how Jack _really can't watch this without having the urge of slitting someone's throat. Oh fuck, I need to get out of here._

Jack dizzily moved his way to the door, having to push through the mass of students, and clumsily made it into the empty hall. He found Amy seated against the wall, who looked up when the boy stumbled out. “Are they still looking for me?” she asked.

Jack shook his head in shock, then regretted it as his feet threatened to give out under him, “Nah. You can, um, head back in. They're doing the spotlight dance though. I suggest hanging around in the back.”

Amy nodded and gave a small smile before running inside the gym.

Jack’s stomach was still in knots as he walked out the building, finding the air much colder than before. He sighed, a puff of air escaping through his quickly drying lips. Jack made his way around the school, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jacket and pulling out his flask.

Jack stopped at his usual smoking spot, putting the mouth of the bottle to his lips and throwing his head back. The gin filled his mouth and ran down his throat, making his throat burn as if he had filled it with unbearable heat, the only thoughts in head now being how the alcohol managed to make the cold go away. As soon as he knew it, his flask was empty, and he stuffed it back into his pocket.

Jack looked up at the light that hung over him, flies buzzing around the white light as it flickered periodically. The side of the school was actually extremely underlit, since there was only one light where he stood and two others at each end of the building. Other than those lights, there were the street lights that lined up beside the road that paralleled the school. During this observation, Jack belatedly wondered what time it was. _Why am I even here?_

“I knew you would be here.”

Jack snapped his head to the figure walking up to him and remembered _exactly_ why he was there. All memories were pushed away when he noticed Mark wore his crown lopsided, and he snorted.

Mark frowned, “What?” He took a moment to notice what Jack was staring at. “Oh, that?” The older man grinned, “I’m king now! Doesn't matter _how_ I wear the crown.”

“God, you're just a king of the geeks,” Jack mused, “or king of the squirrels.” _Why the fuck would I fucking say that? That's so fucking gay, Jesus._

Mark placed a hand on his chest in a fake show of insult. “No wonder I rule over _you_ , then.”

The green-haired boy shook his head in amusement, “ _Please_ , as if I would ever worship someone who dances to _slow_ songs.”

“Hehe, oh yeah,” Mark chuckled, nervously. “But you dance to slow songs too!” he whined in defense.

“I actually have never done that,” Jack smirked. “Guess the king was wrong.”

“You’ve never danced to a slow song?” Mark asked incredulously. “Do you at least know how?”

Jack shook his head, “Uh, no. Why?”

Mark paused, a calculating look on his face. His brows were pushed together into a straight line, and he was frowning slightly. Mark stepped closer, and Jack only watched. The older boy stepped closer again, and Jack blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Well, I’m gonna teach you how to slow dance,” Mark explained, and his lips formed into a smirk. “As your king, I order all of the peasants to learn how to slow dance.”

“Wow, so now I'm a peasant?” Jack grinned. “If I wasn't so drunk, I would have drop-kicked you right there.”

Mark smiled, then stepped close enough that Jack could smell his cologne again. Mark took his hand and held it slightly outstretched from them, but Jack just didn't seem to follow. Then, the American slipped his right hand on Jack's hip. Jack’s breath hitched slightly, but he forced his eyes trained on Mark’s.

“Okay, now you put your left hand on my shoulder,” Mark muttered quietly, watching the distance between them. Their bodies weren't touching, but they were close enough that Jack could feel the heat Mark let off, and it was a nice change from the cold.

Jack nodded, doing as he was asked without any obligation. He whispered, “Then?”

“Then… Well, you just look at your partner,” Mark said quietly, looking up and meeting Jack’s eyes, “and… Uh… you sway back and forth.”

Jack nodded, following along as Mark swayed himself side to side. “What else can you do?”

“Usually, you can step to the side,” Mark paused, “like this.” Jack felt Mark tug his hand to the right and felt Mark’s foot move. Jack followed. He felt Mark move back to the left, and followed along. “But you can move forward and back.”

Jack glanced down at their feet, but stopped as Mark shook his head, “Don’t look down.” The Irishman nodded and kept eye contact. The other teen stepped back, and Jack followed cautiously, trying not to step on Mark’s foot. He barely succeeded. The jock gave a small smile, “You’re terrible to lead.”

“Shut up,” Jack rolled his eyes, then smirked. “You’re a terrible leader.”

Mark shook his head, “Luckily for you, you probably won't have to be led. By the way, you lead simply by tugging on your partner’s hand. Like this,” Mark tugged him to the right and Jack complied, this time managing to move in sync. “See, but sometimes it might be hard to lead, because sometimes people don't dance like this.”

Jack furrowed his brow at that, pausing in their swaying. “How else do they dance?”

Mark stopped, and unlinked their hands, “Well, no one does this often... Sometimes they dance like _this_.” He slipped his left hand behind Jack’s back and pulled Jack closer. Jack stood limp, his hands now holding onto his shoulders. “The girl, normally—sorry, you keep being the girl—puts her arm around the guy’s neck. And they just sway.”

Jack nodded, slipping his arms around Mark’s neck and avoided eye contact. He could feel Mark’s body in certain places, and the thought of how close they stood made his stomach churn nervously. “I-is that all they do?”

“Well… You can talk during slow dances… Although,” Mark explained as Jack shifted his hands, “uh, don't let your hands wander.”

Jack looked to him and deadpanned, “You’re telling that to _me_?”

Mark laughed, throwing his head back in a way that made Jack stare and smile at the sight. Jack would be lying if he said it wasn't cute, but he chose to lie. Mark paused his movements to try to catch his breath. “O-other than that,” he said between chuckles, sighing and Jack felt his breath hit his face. “You can kiss your partner.”

With the word kiss, Jack froze, looking at Mark in the face and trying to see what the other man was thinking. The Irishman found no emotion he could recognize, not even a smile to show that Mark was joking.

Among the processes of trying to understand what was happening, his brain lazily threw out the words _Kiss him._ And suddenly, it became an idea he just needed to try. His heart was pounding on his chest for him to lean closer. And maybe Jack could blame the alcohol, but Jack decided to test the waters.

And so, Jack stupidly leaned in, shut his eyes, and placed a small kiss on Mark’s lips.

It wasn't much, Jack thought. He didn't even get a chance to feel just how soft Mark’s lips were, but he just wanted to see what it was like to feel lips pressed against his own. For his first kiss, though, it was _nothing_ but chaste.

Then he pulled away and looked at Mark’s face. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, expecting to see shock and disgust, or disdain and embarrassment. Because Jack wasn't thinking. He instantly regretted ever leaning in, or even _talking_ to Mark, because he knew he had fucked something important up when he saw Mark’s wide eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i blame mark for this

**Author's Note:**

> Schedule shall be any Tuesdays because Tuesdays are underrated.  
> By the by, point out any mistakes, 'cause most likely I need to fix them  
>  _ **EDIT:**_ aaaaaand SEPTIPLIER AWAAAY!!!!


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